Mutagenesis
by the morrighan
Summary: Dark secrets are revealed and more answers are gained to the creatures plaguing the Pegasus galaxy.
1. Chapter 1

Mutagenesis

Violet.

The color was rich. A deep purple, with echoes of blue creating a vibrant patina. But it wasn't only the color that drew John Sheppard's avid gaze. It was the way the fabric hugged his wife's rear, stretching tightly and outlining every rounded curve as she leaned over in the back of the car. John adjusted his sunglasses. Adjusted the rearview mirror to smile, watching his wife lean over even more to secure their son in the car seat. "You know, baby, if that skirt was two inches shorter I'd be a very happy man."

"Shut up, sweetie," Moira Sheppard reproved mildly. "You would have to rent some stupid sportscar!" she complained. "Johnny's car seat barely fits! Here we go, darling." She kissed the gurgling infant, making certain he was strapped in securely, that the car seat was strapped on the seat safely.

"Maybe three inches," John mused, gaze still glued to her rear, "but damn that skirt hugs your pert little ass. Hey, you're not commando, are you?"

"Shut up, John." He laughed at her exasperation. She sighed. "Johnny, do not take after your father."

"Gaga goo!" the baby chortled. She smiled, kissed the baby.

"Dada, and hell yes, son, take after me in every way." John wolf-whistled as she deliberately wiggled her rear at him before getting out of the back seat. "Fuck...we may have to stop to have sex, Moira," he informed as she slipped into the passenger seat next to him. Half teasing, half sincere as his gaze roved.

"Enough, colonel. Keep it in your pants." She turned to view their son. "Okay, darling?"

"Ga mama!"

"Good. Let's go, John." She met his gaze but his eyes were on the generous view of her thigh as the skirt rode up. "Damn it!" He laughed as she pulled it down, adjusting the material, squirming on the seat. "I'm out of practice wearing girl clothes."

"Why are you so dressed up anyway?" he asked, starting the car. He glanced back at their son. "Hold on, junior!" He revved the engine. "Sweet! We'll be there in twenty, baby!" He spun round the parking lot, sped out of it. A passing marine leapt out of the way. The baby clapped in delight.

"Gaga goo! Gaga goo!" the infant exclaimed.

"John! Slow down!" Moira warned but John pushed the car to ninety. Tires squealing down the road. He left a trail of dust in his wake.

"Damn she's fine! Can you persuade Caldwell to fly this back for me, Moy? Like that, junior?"

"GA!" the baby exclaimed, clapping.

John slowed, then shot onto the highway. "Here we go! Don't you worry, sweetheart. I know we've got precious cargo."

"Good to know, John." She relaxed a little as he slowed in the traffic. She glanced back at the prattling baby. "Don't encourage him, darling."

"Mama goo!"

She smiled. "Yes, darling." She turned back to her husband. "It's like having two boys sometimes," she teased.

"Hilarious, Moira. You never answered my question." John changed lanes, sped along past the slower cars. Finding it odd to be driving an ordinary vehicle instead of an Ancient Jumper that would respond to his thoughts as well as to his hands. He glanced back to see his son clapping happily, staring out the window. He glanced at Moira who was scowling. He grinned as he eyed the road.

"We don't have to break a speed record, John," she warned.

"Okay, Moira." He slowed some, still grinning. "So? The fancy duds? Is there something I should know about this professor guy?"

"No. It's just nice to dress like a girl. Once in awhile."

"Ah. Yeah. I concur. As long as you undress like one too. Slowly." He glanced at her. The violet blouse and matching skirt were flattering. Hugging her curves. He saw the tanzanite ring on her finger. The one he had given her for their first anniversary.

Moira turned back to see the baby staring out the window, grinning. Holding onto his car seat. "He's going to be as bad as you are. I can tell." She sighed, turned back. Gaze lingering on John's simple denim jacket over a faded green t-shirt. Jeans. She looked back at the baby in his navy sailor suit. But the infant stubbornly pulled off the matching hat. She shook her head, turned back towards the front. "Do you hate hats as much as your son?"

John glanced at the rearview mirror to see his son sucking on the hat. Smiled. "Yeah. I guess. Messes up my hair."

She laughed. "How can you tell?"

He mock glared at her. "Hilarious, Moira. I'll spank that pert little ass for that."

She leaned close, kissed his cheek. "Sorry, John. But seriously...how can you tell?"

He smirked. "For that you will be sorry, baby. That pert little ass is going to be all rosy when I finish with it. Ah. Our turn-off."

"Oh no," she muttered, even as revved the engine again.

John sped into the other lane, up the ramp. Slowed, following the curving road as it took them off the highway. Slowed further as he entered normal traffic. The baby fussed. "Sorry, junior. We have to behave now. How far to the museum, Moira?"

"Take that next exit, there. It's only about a mile or so." She stared out the window. At the passing buildings. The pine trees lining the sidewalks. The blue, blue sky. Her stomach twisting as they drove down familiar roads.

Moira sighed. Looked over her shoulder as she tried to unbuckle the baby from his car seat. The baby was fussing, little hands on his mother's as if to stop him. "John! Make yourself useful! Get the stroller, would you? Stop staring at my ass!"

John grinned, watching her in the rear view mirror as they were stationary in the parking lot. "Pert little ass," he corrected, sighed. Got out of the car, pocketing the keys. He moved to the trunk. Began to wrestle the stroller out of it.

Moira freed the baby and carried him out of the car. Closed the door. Grabbed her purse from the front seat. She moved to watch John as he fought. Swore. Leaned to pry the stroller out of the tight compartment. She smirked, enjoying the view as his jacket and shirt rode up, giving her a flash of bare skin. The jeans were tight on his firm rear. "Serves you right, sweetie. Renting a sports car!"

"Hilarious, Moira! There!" He yanked it free, set in on the ground. Slammed the trunk shut and unfolded the stroller. Locked the car with a push of a button.

Moira squatted to set the baby into the stroller. Strapped him in securely. "There, darling." She kissed him. The baby prattled, staring round. Wide blue eyes taking in the great expanse of the outdoors. The cars. The blue sky. The asphalt under him, something he had never seen in Atlantis. Moira stood, slinging the purse over one shoulder. Adjusted the diaper bag on the back of the stroller. She turned to shield her eyes with her hand. Staring at the building. Doors of glass reflecting the sunlight back to her. The baby reached up, caught hold of her skirt. Tugged.

"Mama? Mama, mama!"

Moira ignored him. Lost in a flood of memories. The past crashing on her, good and bad. Forgetting for a moment about her son, her husband, her life in Atlantis. The mission.

John touched her arm, a gentle pressure of his fingers. "Moira?"

She met his gaze, startled. Looked from John to her son. Back again. "John? I...I'm fine." She freed her skirt from her son's little hands. "I'm fine, darling. It's all right." Yet she stood, unmoving. Frozen in place.

John touched the small of her back. "You don't have to do this, Moy. I can go in by myself. Don't you worry, sweetheart. You can stay here with junior."

"No. I...I can do this, John," she assured. Voice soft.

John gently turned her face to his. Kissed her. His lips soft, moving in a loving motion along hers. Teasingly opening her mouth, his tongue shyly darting until he pulled back from her. His brilliant green eyes catching her, mesmerizing her. "Take point. I've got your six."

She smiled. "I bet you do, colonel."

He smiled. "You better believe it, baby. I will have that six in more ways than you can imagine. Now move that pert little ass, would you?"

She headed for the doors. John followed, pushing the stroller. The baby prattled quietly. Little hands on the front bar of the stroller. Gaze taking in everything, amazed at all the new sights and sounds.

Moira steeled herself. Shutting it all down, blocking all the horror, the pain. The guilt. Locking down the darkness deep inside her. Focusing on the mission. On her son. On John now pushing the stroller beside her, ever alert, ever aware of her moods, her needs. Or at least trying to be. She walked, heels clattering on the tiled floors, trying not to be distracted by the exhibits. She stared at the skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus rex as John bought admission tickets. Pretending to be just another family on an outing to a museum. Charming the woman effortlessly as she took his money, handed him the tickets.

She led them into the museum. Pausing as she debated which way to go to find her quarry. The baby was staring round, big blue eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. John was staring round as well, noting the displays, the different attractions. Tried to imagine his wife working here. Amid the dry, dusty specimens and the heavy silences. Amid the fossils and bones instead of the living specimens in the Pegasus galaxy.

"There."

Her voice jolted him and he looked over as she started to head down a hallway, past a display of American Indian artifacts. John followed, pushing the stroller. Gaze appreciating the snug fit of the violet skirt, the slight sway of her hips as she increased her stride. Her long brown hair a swirling cascade down her back.

Moira caught sight of an older man. Salt and pepper hair, beard. Tattered suit and the inevitable bow tie. Mischief sparkling in his gaze as he amused a group of children before they broke into laughter, then moved away from him. She hastened towards him. "Professor! Professor McKenzie!" she called as he almost disappeared round a corner.

The older man turned, eyed her as she reached him. He smiled in surprise, in genuine welcome. "Moira! I don't believe it! Moira O'Meara herself it is!" he exclaimed, affecting an Irish brogue. He engulfed her in a hug. "My dear! My dear, dear Moira! How are you?"

Moira smiled, returned the hug. Stepped back to smile. "Professor! It's so good to see you!"

John had reached them. Gaze assessing the older man. The greeting. He coughed and nudged her with his elbow. Moira glanced at him. He raised a brow, reproving expression on his handsome face as the baby prattled happily.

"Oh! Sorry, honey!" She smiled at the professor who was staring at John now. "It's Moira Sheppard now." She held up her left hand to display her wedding ring.

"Oh? Oh! How delightful!" Jared's gaze flicked to her, returned to John. Looked him up and down. "And this must be Mr. Sheppard?"

"My husband John Shep–"

"Colonel John Sheppard," John corrected, although he knew about the professor's dislike of the military. "USAF." The men briefly shook hands. "And this is our son," he emphasized the possessive pronoun, as if there would be any question. "John junior."

"I see. Wonderful!" Jared glanced at the baby who grinned, prattled loudly. Jared raised his eyes to John again, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He looked at Moira.

"I'm afraid we don't have time for pleasantries, professor," she stated. "I need your help." She glanced at John. Waited.

John nodded, catching her look, her meaning. "Remember, Moira. Non-disclosure. I'll go take our son to see the dinosaurs." He eyed the professor again. Wheeled the baby away from them.

"I must say, Moira, well done! Wow! I mean...wow!"

She grinned. "Thank you. I have no idea how I did it." They shared a laugh.

John felt eyes on his back, on his rear. He smirked, turning, expecting to see his wife ogling him. But instead he saw the professor staring. Puzzled and disconcerted he looked back at his son, wheeling him round the various displays.

"Professor, I need your expertise on this. Professor. Professor!"

"What?" Jared's gaze was lingering on John. "I have to say, Moira...is his–"

"Yes, as gorgeous as the rest of him," she indulged, realizing his question. "Hands off, professor. He's mine." They laughed again.

Jared sighed. Met her gaze. "Why are all the gorgeous ones either straight or married?" he lamented.

She smiled. Glanced at John. He was staring at them, quizzical look on his face. He tapped his watch, then resumed his attention on his son. "Shall we? I need you to look at something."

"I'd rather look at that gorgeous man...but all right. Sorry, it's not every day a man that beautiful walks into the museum."

"Tell me about it," she commiserated. They laughed as they entered his office.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but how and where did you land him?" he asked, sitting at his desk. He pushed aside a mess of papers, books, and a prehistoric bear skull.

She smiled. "Believe me, it wasn't easy! Actually we, um, we work together. Here." She sat across from him. Opened her purse. "I have a sample, here. Several, actually. And the data we have procured doesn't make any sense. Several discrepancies in the genetic code that has stumped our experts. At first we thought it was four different species but it is only from one, um, creature. One organism. It reminded me of your work, but I wasn't sure...so..." She handed him the case, opened it. Handed him a data pad and activated it.

Jared took both, eyed the scrolling information. Eyed the samples. All labeled neatly. "I...I don't quite understand, Moira. What animal is this?"

"Professor...you better hold on tight. I'm about to rock your world."


	2. Chapter 2

Mutagenesis2

John pushed the stroller, pausing at each display to read the information. To look at the skeletal remains. Noting some discrepancies that made him smile. Seeing the fossils and bones was one thing. But he had seen the actual prehistoric animals. Living in the Pegasus galaxy. Living, breathing relics from Earth's past. He could imagine his wife wanting to correct the inaccuracies and knew he would have to prevent her. Fondly shook his head at the thought.

The baby was staring round. The displays daunting. The room cavernous. The floor odd. He missed the quieter noises of Atlantis. The bubbling waters in the walls. The soothing colors of blue and green instead of the harsh florescent lights beaming down on him. People passed occasionally but they were strangers, dressed oddly to his eyes. He didn't see Uncle Rodney. He didn't see Uncle Carson. He didn't see Uncle Ronon or Aunt Teyla or Aunt Katie. None of the machines or equipment they passed attracted him, or spoke to him.

John paused in front of the giant skeleton of an entelodont. Smiled. He squatted next to his son who was staring at the big bones. The large head of the beast seeming to loom over him, as if to devour him. "You see that, captain? An entelodont. That's how it all began. How I met your mother. That first mission. But we saw a real one. A living one. And you will too, one day when you are older, I have no doubt." He stood as the baby prattled. Pointed one stubby finger at the beast's large teeth. "Yeah, I know. Huge teeth. A carnivore."

"Carnivore?" At the voice John turned to see an older woman. She looked at the sign, back to him. "It says here they were scavengers."

"Trust me, they are carnivores."

"And how would you know, young man?" she inquired, amused at his seriousness.

John shrugged. "My wife's a pre-eminent paleozoologist. So yeah, I know. Carnivores." He moved along, paused. Turned back. "And that drawing? It's all wrong. They had thicker fur...and it's brown with darker stripes. The mane is stiffer too. And the tail...way too short on that model. Trust me on this." He resumed moving, smiling, trying not to laugh at the woman's indignant, surprised expression. "And I've seen them in action, buddy," he confided to his son who prattled. "Carnivores. That model was all wrong. Your mother would have a fit."

Moira sat nervously. Hands folded together on her lap as she waited. The professor was reviewing the data pad. Then turned to the samples. Began to examine them under the microscope. One by one. Reviewing the accompanying data. The DNA codes extracted. Defined.

"So...you work with him as well?" Jared asked, voice not betraying his growing amazement. His growing bafflement over what he was seeing. What he was reading.

"Um, yes. That's how we met, actually," she informed. "He saved my life."

"I'm not surprised. He looks the heroic type."

"He is. Actually he risked his life to–" A cough made her turn to the open doorway. John was lingering there, stroller near him. Moira glanced at the professor but his back was to her. Effectively blocking the samples she had brought. Nevertheless she felt a blush on her face. "John?" she asked, turning back to him.

"Cut the chit-chat. A quick word, Moira." He gestured.

She looked at the professor but he was engrossed now. "I'll be right back." She stood. Followed John as he wheeled the stroller away from the office. "John? Does Johnny need something?"

"No. I want to ask you."

"Ask me? Ask me what?"

He stopped, turned to her. Glanced at the open doorway. Met her gaze. Uncomfortable. Embarrassed. "Moira...I...um...is he...is he..."

"Is he what, John? Didn't you say time was–"

"Yes, yes I did. I just wanted...I thought it was you. I mean you always, well..."

She sighed. "You're not making any sense, John."

"Or any woman, for that matter. But I just assumed it was you since you are the only woman here and I thought you–"

"John! Focus!"

"Was he, um, was he checking out my, my six?" John finally managed to ask. Voice quiet.

Moira stared. Smiled. Smirked. "Oh! Yes."

"Yes? He...yes? Then he..." John glanced at the open doorway. Met her gaze.

Moira smiled. "Yes, John. He's gay. You really shouldn't be surprised that he was staring at you. I mean, come on, John."

"It's not funny, Moy!" he scolded.

"You shouldn't be surprised with those tight, tight jeans, colonel," she continued, enjoying his discomfort, chagrin. "You should have worn those tight gray BDU pants, sweetie. They show off you're fine, fine ass to perfection, not to mention your considerable ordnance."

"Moira Sheppard!"

She laughed as he scowled. "It's true, John."

"Speaking of asses I am so going to spank that pert little ass of yours, baby, so fucking hard you won't be able to sit down for a week! Go! I'll be right over there!" He wheeled the stroller, whirled, seeing her stare. "Moira, damn it! Stop staring at my ass!" He noticed some people staring at him, hearing his outburst.

Moira laughed. "Turnabout is fair play, John! And you do have a fine one. A very fine one!" She giggled at his scowl, returned to the office.

The professor turned in his chair. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes. John just realized you are gay."

"Oh. Did all of that ogling clue him in?" They laughed. "Took him this long, did it? So you didn't marry him for his brains, did you? Just those gorgeous, breathtaking looks."

"No! He is very smart. Very. Just out of his element here. Trust me, professor, he is not just a boy toy. Far from it."

"I'll take your word for it, dear. Although I wouldn't mind a boy toy like that." They laughed again.

"Moira!" John peered in suddenly, hearing the laughter, knowing it was probably at his expense. "Don't forget! Non-disclosure. Need to know. Classified intel. Got it?"

"Yes, sweetie,"she sighed. "I know. Now let us work, okay?"

"Yes, sweetie," the professor echoed with a smile. "I understand all that secrecy and cloak and dagger stuff you military types always insist upon."

John replied, "good. And only she," he pointed at his wife, "gets to call me sweetie."

"Understood, colonel," the professor relented.

John nodded. Eyed Moira. Left.

Moira smiled. "Stop teasing him, professor. That's my purview."

"I can't help myself, Moira. I bet he is cute when he is embarrassed."

"Very. Now focus. I knew he would be too distracting," she complained.

"And when he's angry. I just imagine how damn sexy he must be..."

"Professor, focus!" They laughed. "But yes, you can't imagine how damn sexy he is when he is pissed...and hasn't shaved for a day..." Passion filled her eyes for a moment

"I would love to imagine that, Moira. Do you have a picture, by chance?" They laughed. But he grew serious. "Moira...these samples. This data. What you are showing me...is impossible. Can't possibly exist! But you have living tissue! Blood. DNA...from insects, from humans...from things I can't even fathom! These sequences...you say they are all from the same...creature?"

"Yes. And those others are from other...creatures. Mutations but in different ways. A more primitive form of the species, so to speak. Professor...we first thought it was a teratogenic effect, whether from a natural toxin or by deliberate design. But when I saw this..." She pointed again. "The way the genes have been altered...in each creature...in the same regions of the genetic code...I knew. I suspected mutagenesis."

"Mutagenesis." The professor eyed the samples again. The data. "A good guess, but no."

"No?" she asked.

"Moira, you wouldn't have come to me if this was merely mutagenesis." He began to lecture, as if she were still his undergraduate student. "The process by which the genetic information of any organism is changed in a stable manner either through nature or through experimentation. Through chemicals or radiation. These changes are similar but not the same...and they would all be the same if it had been mutagenesis. And these...creatures...you say they are more primitive than the evolved species?"

She nodded. "Very. The evolved species...is a combination of human and what we call an Iratus bug. An insect. Somehow they have combined their genetic codes to create a wholly new species we call the Wraith." Her voice fell softly. "I shouldn't be telling you this, any of this. I shouldn't be showing you these samples. But where we, um, work...the threat is dire. Immediate. And these creatures...whatever or whomever is mutating them...professor, what is this? And how could these Wraith come to be in the first place? These forms...I suspect they are not just mutations...someone is turning back the clock...but I need you to verify that."

Jared frowned. "You already know what this is, Moira. That's why you came to me. You already know the forces at work here...at a sophisticated level that we haven't achieved yet. No one has. Moira...you came to me because you recognized the evidence and only need verification," he agreed. "From anyone else I would expect this to be a hoax. But not from you. And you seek enlightenment as to how this is happening."

Moira sighed. Glanced at the open doorway. Glanced back at the professor. His serious mien. "You're right, professor. And it's no hoax, I promise you. It's all very real. Very classified." She glanced at the open doorway again, as if expecting John to be glowering at her any moment. "But it's too important to keep the pertinent facts from you. I need to know what this is. What exactly is happening here. Professor...I thought, I thought I recognized it. It's...it's evo-devo, isn't it?"

"Let me look again to be sure. Samples?"

Moira nodded. "Labeled. From each creature. From the creature presenting four different, divergent species. The last two there...are from the most evolved creature. The combination of DNA of human and, and insect...creating a wholly new creature! And this," she tapped the data pad, bringing up another screen, "is what we have so far. About them. There's a causal link in the enzyme they produce when feeding. And we developed a retro-virus to strip away the insect elements, leaving only the human, but it was only a temporary measure."

"The DNA strands are too intertwined," Jared stated, going over the data again.

"Yes. When we tried to replicate it in the lab, to strip away the human and just leave the insect the cells experienced necrosis on such a level that no creature would survive the process if we ever got that far."

"Yet when you stripped away the bug element these...things survived?"

"Yes, as human...but without repeated injections of the virus they regressed back to a different creature entirely. A half-state between full Wraith and human. The experiment...it was a failure." Her thoughts darkened for a moment. "There was a serum developed that prevented them from feeding on humans but it proved to be fatal to them, and half of the humans who received the injection died as well. Another failure."

"They feed on humans?" Jared asked, disbelief vying with fascination. He could see her sincerity. Her complete seriousness. And the samples before him, the data was incontrovertible proof.

Moira nodded, meeting his gaze. "Yes." She held up her open palm to face him, pointed at the center. "Through a sucker here...they feed off the life force."

"Like a vampire?"

"Yes. I know," she said, seeing his skepticism, "it's sounds like a science fiction or horror movie, but professor, I am telling you the truth. Much more than I should be telling you. These things...they are a scourge where we, um, live and work. And now these new creatures...whatever they are...if someone is capable of mutating them like this we have to know how and why."

"Incredible. I do believe you, Moira...despite myself. Let me go over this again. I can sequence these samples in my own lab and cross-compare them. Whatever is going on the story will be in the genetic coding, as you know. If this is evo-devo I will be able to spot it. I will need about an hour, maybe two. Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course. I can clear it with John...just keep this to yourself, please." She stood. "I'd like to assist you, if I may."

"Of course, dear. It will be like old times. Oh..." He paused, as a shadow passed across her face.

"Sorry, dear!"

"I'm fine. I know what you meant. Let me check with John first...he doesn't exactly know how much I have, um, given you...and how much I have told you. Let me sweet talk him round all of that and then we can get to work."

Jared smiled. "I'll sweet talk him if you'd like, Moira."

Moira smiled. "I think he'll respond to me...but hey, if I can't talk him round you will get your chance, professor."

"Good. I look forward to sparring with that man."


	3. Chapter 3

Mutagenesis3

The baby cried as he dropped his toy onto the floor. He was being rolled away from it and protested loudly, squirming in his seat in the stroller.

"What is it, son? Oh oh!" John rolled the stroller back to the stuffed blue plane on the floor. "Hold on, captain, you can't lose your plane plane, can you?" John leaned over to retrieve the toy, one hand still clasping the stroller. Feeling eyes on his rear again he straightened. A sarcastic retort on his lips as he turned. "That's enough, professor! I am flattered but I do not swing that...oh. Sorry."

A woman stood, smiling. Gaze roving over him. Attractive. Clad in a matching brown blazer and skirt. A yellow blouse underneath. "Sorry! I heard a baby crying and I–"

"My son," John proudly noted as he gave the toy to the baby. The infant quieted, taking it. Staring at the woman. John smiled. Recognizing the look on her face. He could only imagine Moira's reaction. He took a step towards her, slightly tilting his head. "My son dropped his plane plane. His plane," he corrected. Glanced at the baby who was now watching his father. Toy not far from his mouth. An almost reproving look on his little face, tiny brows furrowed. Just like John when he was upset. John almost shrugged. "I'm waiting for my wife," he said, more to the baby than to the woman admiring him.

A trace of disappointment crossed the woman's face. She tucked a strand of honey-blond hair behind her ear. "She's one lucky woman to have such a beautiful..." she paused. Resumed. "Baby."

John understood the implied compliment. The obvious flirtation. "Yes. We are very lucky," he agreed. The baby started to fuss.

"Gaga! Gaga goo gaga goo?"

John ignored him. Saw the gold name tag above a full breast. "You might have heard of her. My wife, I mean. She worked here, but it was several years ago."

"Really? What was her name?"

Moira examined the equipment in the lab, all of it familiar. Less technologically advanced than the equipment in Atlantis, but still quite serviceable. The centrifuge. The computers awaiting data input. The genetic analyzer, the SMRT operations in readiness. Microprocessors and other machines that were new to Moira. She stared at them, momentarily entranced. Curious.

"Exactly where do you and your lovely colonel work?" Jared asked, setting the samples to one side. He drew on a pair of latex gloves. Turned to face her.

"I...um..far away. I really can't answer that," she hedged awkwardly.

"We can sequence these must faster now. There's a boom in the genetics trade and research is quite well-funded, as you can see. Not like it was only ten years ago. Even exotic samples such as these. Tell me, Moira...these..creatures...whatever did you call them?"

"Wraith," she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder.

"Wraith...well, they can't possibly exist. I mean such things cannot exist. But I suppose they do. I have the proof right here, don't I? Weren't you going to fetch your lovely colonel?"

"My...what? Oh, yes." She touched the older man's arm. "We need to keep this quiet, professor. All of this. I wasn't supposed to show you any of this, or bring those samples. But I knew you would need the whole picture for a complete and concise analysis."

"Don't worry, Moira. I won't tell a soul. No one would believe me, anyway. Let's just say this is a theoretical riddle we need to solve. An exercise in scientific inquiry, shall we? Now I'll get started."

"Thank you, professor. I'll go see how John and Johnny are doing."

"I'm sorry. Could you say that again?" the woman asked. Her face was pale. Shock as she stared at John. All flirtation gone.

John's gaze narrowed as if he perceived a threat. He stepped in front of the stroller. In front of the fussy baby in it. "Moira O'Meara," he repeated slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Why?"

"John! John, I need your advice on the...oh my God..." Moira froze. Her heels clacking into silence. Her brown eyes widening. Voice halted. Heart racing.

"Mama, mama!" the baby cried, little arms waving in the air. Pouting.

John turned at his wife's voice. He saw Moira's shock, mirroring the other woman's. He turned back to the other woman. Her face had transformed into a mask of hatred.

"You? You!" she hissed. "You dare to come back here?"

Moira gulped. "I...I'm sorry..." Her voice was a whisper, barely audible even in the heavy silence blanketing the museum.

"Sorry? Sorry! How dare you come back here! How could you?" the woman accused, voice harshly ringing along the walls, the floor.

"Moira is here at my request to–" John tried to intervene, but the woman glared at him.

"Do you know what she did? What she is?"

"She is my wife," John answered tightly.

"She's a monster! How could you marry her? She didn't tell you, did she? Did she?" Her voice rose, nearly shouting. Hysterics threatening.

"I...I'm sorry, Sheila...I didn't know you would be, be, be here," Moira attempted, voice soft, frail. She took a step towards the other woman, stopped.

"She did tell me. Now back off," John warned, voice low. Serious.

"Then she didn't tell you the truth! She's a monster! She's a killer! She's-"

"My wife," John said sternly, moving to Moira now. Pulling the stroller with him. "So I suggest you shut the hell up and back the fuck off or I just might forget that you're a woman."

"John!" Moira exclaimed, startled by his threat, his gravity. "She has every right to, to, to–" she stammered.

"No." John took a step towards the woman. "I'm sorry, did I not make myself clear?" The woman backed away slowly. Disbelief and hatred on her face.

"Mama! Mama!" the baby cried.

Jolted out of the past Moira moved to the stroller. She lifted the infant, cuddled him. "Ssh, ssh," she soothed, "it's all right, Johnny, ssh." She felt tears, felt herself dissolving but John was there suddenly. His arms encircling her.

"Ssh, Johnny, it's okay now." He kissed the baby. Kissed Moira's wet cheek. "Sweetheart."

"John..."

"You could have warned me, sweetheart," he gently chided. Gaze on the other woman as she disappeared down a hallway. Gaze locked on that spot in case she returned.

"I...I didn't think that she was, was, was still here..." Moira forced back the tears, the shock.

"Didn't the professor say anything?" he asked. "Moy? The professor?"

"I...I can't believe she, she stayed, after...after the...after..." Moira was lost in a maze of memory and shock. Holding the baby but not even aware of him. Feeling John's strong arms around her but not reassured by his protection.

"Moira, sweetheart, who is she?" he asked.

"John, John...you...I..." She kissed the baby as he quieted, sniffling. "His, his sister. His..." she whispered, voice lost in a drowning, dark place that John knew only too well. He kissed her. Freed her. Took the baby from her and set him into his stroller. "Let's go." He guided both towards the office.

"What did you need, Moy? Has the professor found something?"

"Yes. I was right...but he needs to confirm it...an hour for, for comprehensive DNA analysis and comparison of the, the..." She tried to push the past back but it clung to her like a shadow.

"Moira! Are you all right?" Jared asked, stepping into his office as they entered.

John guided Moira to a chair, took the other one. Rolled the stroller between them. "Some crazy bitch named Sheila just–"

"Oh God! I'm sorry! Moira, I'm so sorry! I didn't know she was here today! I didn't even think! I was so surprised to see you I didn't even consider the–" Jared began in sincere alarm.

"I didn't think she would be here..." Moira muttered. "I should, I should go speak to–"

"Hell no!" John caught her arm before she could leave. "What did you find, professor? We're on a clock here."

"Gaga, gaga goo!" the baby prattled, staring round.

"Hush, junior. Professor?" John freed Moira's arm. He tickled the baby's tummy, causing the infant to giggle. The baby caught his father's fingers.

"Evo-devo. Just as you suspected, Moira, but I am running the tests now. I will need an hour to be absolutely sure, but already I am finding some interesting discrepancies. This is on a scale we simply haven't achieved yet, but given the information you have shared I can tell you that whoever is doing this is not doing it the right way. I've made some base calculations and given the criteria you provided it simply does not add up, not in any conventional sense. The DNA patterning is too–"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a sec. Evo-devo? What the hell is that? And what criteria, exactly? How can you run tests of any kind since you don't have any actual...oh crap," he realized. Turned to his wife. "Moira?"

Moira colored under his stern gaze. "Um, John...he...he needed to have the whole picture...so I just...um...had to..."

"Colonel, in order to give you a complete answer I needed all of the pertinent data and facts, as wildly improbable as they are. Frankly I would suspect a hoax from anyone else, but not from Moira. I will need an hour for a conclusive analysis of each sample."

"Each...each...how many did you give him?" John flared, freeing his hand from the baby.

Moira almost squirmed in her chair. Shock momentarily allayed by her husband's anger. "Only, only a few...of the, the current one and the, the others...and a, a Wraith..."

"Moira Sheppard!" he flared. "Do you know how much shit I will be in if this is discovered? Caldwell will haul my ass back to the SGC and leave it there! Damn it, Moira, I told you! Non-disclosure, need to know, classified intel! What the hell were you thinking?"

The baby began to fuss at his father's tone. "Colonel, I can assure you that nothing will leave this office," Jared temporized. "You fail to understand that I cannot give an analysis of any credibility without all of the data. Fantastical as it is if I can't have the evidence then I cannot help you. It's simple, really. You need to understand how science works, son."

"You fail to understand how this is classified to the nth degree and if any of this comes out not only will I be in serious shit but so will Moira! You have no idea how much we are risking by even coming here and consulting with you! You have no idea how much–"

"John, enough!" Moira stood, turned to him. "You're upsetting Johnny! I'm sorry, John, but he had to know the complete picture. And we can trust him. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I trust you, but this is–" he began.

"No. It has to be this way, John. We need an hour, okay? The professor and I are going to work on this. You need to take care of Johnny while we work. Professor, let's go." She was already moving to the back door, heading for the lab.

Jared smiled, stood. "You heard Doctor O'Meara. Oh, I guess it's Doctor Sheppard now. An hour, colonel. Show your son the dinosaurs again."

John glowered, moving to his feet as the professor followed his wife out of the office. He sighed. Eyed his son who was fussing. "Easy, junior. We've got an hour to kill. Any ideas?"

"Gaga goo! Mama, mama!"

"His bottle, John!" she called, hearing her son's complaint.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled. "I'll be right here, Moira, feeding your son!"

"Your son, too, sweetie!" she called. Smiled imagining his ire.

"Just play Mr. Mom while the scientists work, sweetie," Jared called, sharing a laugh with Moira.

"That's Colonel Mom, and I told you, professor, only Moira gets to call me that!" He scowled, rummaging in the diaper bag. Glanced at his son who was fussing but grinned at him. "You too, junior? It's not funny, buddy, so cut that out."

"Gaga goo! Gaga goo!"

"Yeah, whatever, sport. Here's your bottle."


	4. Chapter 4

Mutagenesis4

John gently rocked the baby as he fed him his bottle. The baby was noisily sucking, little hands wrapped around the bottle. Serious gaze on his father. John's likewise serious gaze was traversing the room. The rows of books. The skulls of prehistoric creatures. The diplomas on the walls. Pictures of past expeditions. He glanced at his son, adjusting the bottle. Musing on his wife. Her work here. Her life here. The woman who had berated her, belittled her. The sister of Moira's murdered fiancé. He frowned.

Easing the bottle from the baby he set it aside. Sat the baby on his lap and gently patted his back. The baby burped, spit up a little. John grabbed a towel and wiped the baby's face. "There now, junior. Easy does it, son." The baby coughed, spit up a little more. John wiped his face. Draped the towel over his shoulder and held his son there, rubbing his back. "Here you go, junior. Round and round." He walked back and forth, back and forth in the small space, loath to leave the confines of the office. Guarding the lab beyond it. Guarding Moira.

After a few more burps the baby quieted. Then began to gurgle, to prattle. Informing his father he was fine, ready to play. John held the baby to see his face. Wiped his mouth again. "Okay now, Johnny? We have work to do."

"Gaga goo. Mama mama goo." The baby pointed.

John looked round. "What? I don't see anything, buddy. Oh...you want mommy? Mommy's working in there." John moved to the back door. Peered down a short flight of stairs. "Moira!" he called. "Let's go see what mommy's doing, shall we?"

"Mama goo!" the baby agreed.

Moira and Jared stood side by side, intently studying the screen. DNA codes were lined up in rows, illuminated in black and colors. Sequencing one after the other, running comparisons. "I...I don't believe it. And you are sure?"

"Yes," Jared confirmed. "The evidence doesn't lie. Look for yourself, Moira. As improbable as this is...I've had to tell the computer it's a simulation because it wouldn't accept it otherwise. A biological impossibility. Where exactly are you stationed with your colonel?"

"Classified," John noted, moving towards them. He eyed the screen. The baby prattled. "So?"

Jared turned to John. Smiled as the baby began to prattle loudly, all smiles. "It's evo-devo."

"Oh. Okay." He waited, frowned. "What the hell is evo-devo? Wait, you mean that 80s rock group with the funny yellow hats?"

Moira smiled, turning to him. "Hilarious, John. No. Evo-devo." At his still blank look she explained. "It's cutting edge. A merging of paleontology and molecular biology to connect major evolutionary changes to changes in specific genomes. Evolutionary developmental biology."

"Oh. Okay."

"And how those genes are regulated. For example, what you have here. It looks like mutagenesis and on some level it is in fact mutagenesis but it's not. Someone has switched genes on and off, active genes to bring back ancestral forms that existed earlier in their evolution. Except these switches are only being activated in one part of the genome and since these creatures have two separate genomes you are getting those creatures that Moira described."

"Don't you see, John? Someone is tampering with them, but in the wrong way! Genetic engineering at the embryonic level to produce earlier gene expressions! The wrong Hox genes, or rather only half of the equation and the Hox zones shifting in random–"

"Not so random, really, given the extraordinary circumstances of the creatures themselves and the end product, but yes, the tool kit has been radically mutated and the sequences arranged but differently each time, however each end result is almost the same–"

"But going in the wrong direction, or the same direction which as we know since you didn't turn into a bug!" Moira finished. "Well?"

John looked from one to the other. Pained expression on his handsome face. He glanced at the baby in his arms. The infant's reaction was mirroring his own. He began to fuss again. John sighed. Licked his lips. "You said it, junior. And I thought one biologist was bad. Okay, slower now, for the guy who isn't a scientist, all right?"

Moira smiled. "Sorry, John."

"Let's go back upstairs where we can sit and be comfortable," Jared offered.

"Samples first." John pointed. Waited, ignoring their sighs. Once the samples were packed in the case, and the case in his wife's hand he led them back up the stairs. John set his son into the stroller, handing him a toy. Sat in the chair as Moira sat next to him. He sighed, lounging back in the chair. "I know I'm going to regret this, but explain about this evo-devo stuff.."

"Colonel, let me give you an example," Jared offered, amused and charmed by the puzzled, pained expression on John's face. "You know that birds evolved from dinosaurs, right?"

"Yeah. Sure. I know that." He glanced at Moira, as if needing her confirmation. "So how–"

"In theory, if we knew what genes to turn on and off we could reverse ancient development. Trigger the specific genes to produce more dinosaur-like traits. A long tail. Grasping forelimbs. No feathers. This is micro evolution. Evolution on a quantum scale. Changes that led to the creation of an entirely new species. Or the re-introduction of an old one."

"Dinosaurs from birds, got it. So you're saying you could produce a dinosaur from a chicken?"

"In theory, yes. Of course you have to have the technology and the knowledge, yes. We are just starting to learn how to clone species. For example, take Moira's beloved megafauna. If we wanted to clone a mammoth or any extinct mammal we would need the complete DNA sequences of the beast. But we only have a partial reconstruction. And then use what little genetic knowledge we have of them. Then add in a closely related species, like the elephant, to complete the genetic sequences as close as we could. Of course it wouldn't be a pure mammoth, more like a hybrid animal composed of–"

"Whoa, okay, got that. Let's get back to the matter at hand, shall we? What about that Hox stuff you were spouting? And a kit? There's a tool kit?" he asked, glancing at Moira.

"Homeotic genes, colonel, the–"

"Whoa, professor, I told you, I don't swing that way," John quipped. They laughed.

Moira elbowed him. "John! Not homoerotic! Homeotic genes! Also known as Hox genes. They shape the development of the body at different positions along the body axis. Where the limbs should be, the head, the tail, the organs...a genetic tool kit, as it were, because mammalian body types are basically the same at an embryonic level. An evolutionary theory is that the Hox zones shifted due to specialization of repetitive parts. Adaptation."

"Ecology drives evolution, colonel," Jared continued. "Not genes. The body plan genes throw other genes we call switches on and off to tell the protein-encoded genes what to do. How to develop. Evolutionary shifts in the Hox zones arise through changes in the DNA sequences of the switches. A missing letter here. A broken sequence here. Even little changes can lead to massive mutations, or adaptations. Bio-diversity, colonel. Take a look at the world around you. How did the butterfly get its spots? How did the tiger get its stripes? How did a simple body plan diversify into the wondrous creations that populate our world, including us?"

"I know," Moira said before he could speak, "you're wondering what this has to do with the creatures and the Wraith."

"The...Moira? How much did you tell him?" John asked in dismay.

"I had to tell him everything, John, I'm sorry! Those creatures...someone is attempting evo-devo on them. But in the wrong way. You remember how I theorized the answer was in the RNA? Specifically the mRNA proteins that encode other–"

"Please, no. I remember that," John conceded, holding up a hand. "And the enzyme. And the other stuff, the chromosomes and what not."

"Yes. Given the Wraith's unique genetic make-up they have twice the sequences that we do. Two separate species that somehow merged into one being. DNA is the template for the making of RNA. RNA is the template for the making of proteins. Genetic information stored in DNA is decoded in two steps to produce the proteins that do the actual work in cells, in bodies."

"Each long molecule of DNA in a cell is a chromosome," Jared continued. "DNA is made up of two strands of building blocks called nucleotides. Each nucleotide contains one of four distinct bases–"

"Yeah, yeah, got that, the letters A, C, G, and T," John intervened. "The double helix held together by strong bonds of chemicals, pairs of bars on opposite sides, got that too. DNA is decoded by transcription and translation, the mRNA into a protein sequence blah blah blah. What you are telling me is that these gene switches are being turned on and off to produce earlier, more primitive versions of the Wraith. Okay. So what's the catch?"

"Wow...I have to say I am impressed, colonel," Jared noted with a smile. "Where you two work it must be fascinating!"

"Always," John quipped. "So...the catch?"

"The catch, colonel, is that the wrong switches are being thrown. Well, only half of them are being thrown, hence the more insect-like creatures you are encountering. In order to really turn back the clock and find the origin of the Wraith species you would need to throw back both switches in both genomes. The human and the insect. Of course since they are so closely intertwined it would be very difficult, if not impossible."

"John, you know what this means!" Moira noted.

"Um, no, actually. What does this mean?" he asked.

"It's not the Wraith doing this! They don't have the technology. So it must be an An–"

"Whoa, classified, although at this point I don't know why I am bothering," he noted. "You mean our old friends? Ah."

"Friends? What am I missing?" Jared asked.

"Nothing. Classified. Okay, Moira, we suspected that all along, right? Significance?"

"Think about it, John! Why? Why would the An...our old friends do this? Considering their policy of non-intervention. Considering that there aren't many left in the first place. Why is one now tampering with the Wraith genome to go back to the beginning? The same place we are trying to find. John, what are we missing?"

"You're asking me? Hell if I know."

"And then there's this." Jared handed him a piece of paper.

John took it. Eyed it. A sequence of codes. A colored bar appeared in different points along each spectrum. One code among many, yet highlighted. "And this is..."

"Your culprit. How the Wraith came to be, colonel, if I am right. The jumping gene."


	5. Chapter 5

Mutagenesis5

John rubbed his brow. Feeling the beginnings of a headache threatening. He set the paper aside. Glanced at his son. The baby was fussing again, little sounds of protest, discomfort. He sympathized, feeling the same. But probably not for the same reason. He looked at his wife. "And what are jumping genes?" he reluctantly asked.

Moira shook her head. "I don't know... I mean they are extremely rare, right?" She looked at Jared.

The older man nodded. "Yes. Jumping genes are strands of DNA that make copies of themselves to reinsert in the genome, totally at random. It is very rare, and unlikely to re-occur. The fact that these various species share traces of a jumping gene proves that they are related. If you were to find this particular gene in another species you could conceivably find the origin of these Wraith. I believe that this jumping gene, whatever it does, or did, is the trigger that set off this massive mutation. The creation of the Wraith species. But there are other factors at work as well. Obviously these creatures don't have the complete genome of a Wraith. In the one Wraith sample you have provided I found some significant differences...in the human genome."

"And these differences are what created the Wraith in the first place?" John asked.

"Yes. Initially. Then it's more than likely evolution took over and refined the tool kit. Refined the species into what it is today. There will be differences between the primitive form and the current species. There are a few anomalies here and here," Jared pointed at some genes highlighted in blue, "that frankly I have no idea what they are or what they do. Most in the human genome, but that one, there...only in the insect genome. I suspect you will know what those are, or at least your scientists will."

John nodded, glancing at the paper again. "I see. Okay...so where does that–" His sons's loud fussing was breaking into a cry. "Whoa there, buddy!"

Moira turned to the baby. "What's wrong, darling? Oh oh!" She slid her hand under him. Withdrew it. "Somebody made a messy!" She moved to her feet. "You'll have to excuse us."

"Just down the hallway, to the right," Jared informed with a smile.

John watched Moira wheel the baby out of the office. He snatched the paper off the desk, folded it and slid it into his pocket. "What you're telling me is that someone is making this happen. Deliberate manipulation of the genome to try to recreate an earlier version of the species, but is doing it wrong because they are manipulating only half of the genome?"

"Yes, colonel. Exactly. Can you tell me why someone would want to do that? And how?"

"No, no idea. But it's not good."

"And you suspect it's these...friends of yours? They don't sound like friends."

"No, not really. More like acquaintances," John hedged.

"I see. No, I don't, really. All of this...it's fantastic! Impossible!"

"And classified," John added, frowning. "Just make sure it stays that way, professor. You have no idea what could happen if any of this leaks out."

"I know how paranoid the military are, colonel."

"You have no idea, professor. For Moira's sake you need to keep all of this under your hat. Destroy all the evidence, all record of what you've done here today."

"No one would believe me anyway, colonel."

"Nevertheless you will destroy all you've done here today. Erase all data. Believe me, you don't want to cross the Air Force on this one."

"Tell me, colonel, where exactly are you stationed? And why on Earth would an Air Force colonel be working with a paleozoologist?"

"Why on Earth indeed, professor," John rejoined. He stared past the professor at the row of photos of past expeditions. Noticed one among the many. A younger Moira was smiling. Next to a blond man. John instantly knew who it was. Instantly disliked him.

Jared noticed the other man's stare. Reached back for the photo and handed it to him. "Yes," he confirmed to John's unasked question. "Moira and James. Before they left on that last expedition. Did she tell you about it?"

"Some," John said, staring at the photo. The younger Moira smiling up at him. Her brown hair shorter. Clad in a simple white shirt and khaki pants. The man beside her, also smiling. Bright blond hair catching the sunlight. A blue shirt and jeans. His arm around her waist.

"Hmm. Then you know how she blames herself. How nearly everyone did. Still does."

"Not you?"

"No. It wasn't her fault! I just wish she would see that. I'm so glad she found you, John. That she let you into her life, into her heart. Because she's never let anyone in. Not after that."

"I know," John agreed, handing back the photo.

Moira finished changing the baby's diaper. She washed her hands. Moved back to the changing table to fuss over the baby. "There now, silly Johnny. A ll better, right?" The baby gurgled at her. She straightened his clothes, kissed him. "There you go, darling. Nice and clean now." She lifted him, set him into his stroller. "Now let's go see if daddy had learned anything new. Then we can find out if the..." S he broke off, turning as a woman entered. "Sheila?"

Sheila Cassidy stared. Eyes hard. Wet. Wild as they took in the sight of mother and child. Took in the sight of a former friend, almost family who had done the unthinkable. The unforgivable. Who had survived whereas her brother had not. She held a long knife in one shaking hand. "You never should have come back here," she said tersely.

Moira was staring at the knife. Recognizing it from one of the Native American displays. Wondered idly if it had been on exhibit and it's derivation. "I..I'm sorry. I never meant to...I didn't think you'd be here after all these years and–"

"No! You didn't think, did you? You never think! You killed my brother!" She was advancing slowly, knife wavering in her hand. "You killed him, Moira! And not a scratch on you! And then you disappear! You end up at some second-rate dig when you shouldn't have been working at all! And then you just...left! You vanished! And now suddenly you waltz back in here and the professor is all over you, his favorite student! How could you dare to come back here?"

"I'm sorry...I had to...I needed his expertise...he...I'm sorry, I just–"

"With a husband! A son! You've moved on like James was nothing to you!"

"No! That's not true! How can you say that? How can you–"

"You killed him! You! Left him to die like that! You! Because you couldn't let it go! You couldn't let it go, could you!"

"I know...I...I couldn't...I didn't mean for it to happen...I...I loved him, I–" Moira began. Trying to explain. As if words could excuse her conduct. Could excuse his murder. Her survival.

"Did you? Did you? Then how could you let him die? How could you kill him? I hate you! I hate you!"

"No!" Moira swerved in front of the baby to protect him as Sheila moved with lightning speed, knife raised, poised to attack. But the baby wasn't her target. The knife plunged into Moira's side, cutting through material, through skin, through flesh. Moira cried out, falling against the stroller, then to the floor as blood gushed. A red spurting that showered the baby in a fine mist. The baby started to wail in terror.

"If you can isolate that jumping gene, and those other ones you couldn't initially identify then we at least have a basis for further comparison with the..." John paused, hearing his son crying loudly. "I better see what's going on." He stood, moved out of the office. Down the hall. Quickening his steps as his son's cries grew louder, louder. Into a heart-rending wail.

"DADA!" the baby shrieked.

John broke into a run, shocked and alarmed. He charged into the restroom, skidded to a halt. Froze in shock. The baby was wailing in his stroller, sprayed with blood but otherwise unharmed. Moira was sprawled on the floor, blood trailing from a vicious cut in her side. Pooling along her skirt, under her body. John was frozen. Trapped as the past and the present collided. As the two tableaus blended in his mind. Suddenly he was the little boy again, witnessing the horror of his discovery and helpless to do anything.

The moment broke. He rushed to his knees, to her side. "Moira! Moira, don't move! Don't you dare leave me! Don't you dare leave me!" He grabbed the baby's blanket, pressed it to her side. "Hang on, Johnny! Moira, Moira, stay with me!"

John heard a noise. He whirled, pulling his gun in one smooth motion. Sheila stood, bloody knife in hand, appearing both shocked and elated. John did not hesitate. Not even for a second. He fired point blank. Two killing shots. One to the head. One to the heart. Sheila fell backwards, dead even before she hit the floor as blood spurted. John holstered his weapon, turned back to his wife. "Easy, Johnny! Moira, Moira, here, here, don't move!"

A woman entered the bathroom. Screamed.

"I need help here! Call 911! Call 911 now!" he bellowed.

"John..." Moira croaked, fingers slipping in the blood as she tried to move. Pain a lashing fire in her side. "Johnny..."

John pressed the blanket to her side again. Ignoring the blood staining his pants, his hands. "Safe, Moira, you saved him! No, no, no stay with me!" he urged as her eyes fluttered. "Moira! Moira, no! Don't you dare leave me, damn it! No! NO!" He glanced at the baby who was still crying, beginning to hiccup and gasp with the exertion. "Easy, Johnny! Everything will be fine! I need help here!"

Moira blinked, blinked. Her vision narrowing, darkening. The pain a constant. John's hand pressed to her, causing more pain. Johnny's screams an echo in her head. She tried to move but couldn't. Felt sluggish, cold. Could feel the blood seeping from her. Staining everything crimson. She tried to talk. Her lips moved but no sound issued. It was becoming difficult to breathe now. She felt every breath, in and out. In and out. Slowing. Slowing.

She watched as John moved out of the way, taking hold of the baby as paramedics surrounded her. Pressed and probed. Slid an oxygen mask onto her but her vision dimmed, her breathing slowed, slowed. She could barely feel the hands that lifted her onto a rolling gurney. Her eyes fluttered and she could barely make out the blurry forms of husband and child. Until the darkness took her and she fell into it almost gratefully.

John held the baby, trying to soothe the infant. Ignoring the blood on both of them as Moira was wheeled out of the bathroom. Stabilized but seriously injured. His heart hammering he dragged the stroller after him, the baby clutching at him, quieting at last. A surge of sorrow, dread, fear almost overwhelmed him but he shoved it down, focusing on his son. His wife. Watching every breath. He climbed into the back of the ambulance, dragged the stroller after him. Watched the paramedics working to staunch the wound as they sped to the hospital.


	6. Chapter 6

Mutagenesis6

Pain. Moira stirred as it spread along her side. Her skin felt tight. She moved. Moaned. Opened her eyes. Squinted at the bright lights. She turned her head to one side. John was slouched in the chair beside the bed, cuddling the baby against his chest. Both were cleaned up from the blood. The baby stirred, moving. Looked over to meet her gaze. Moira smiled at the infant. "Hey Johnny," she whispered. She winced, struggled to a seated position.

"Mama," the baby gurgled, smiling. Starting to squirm in his father's arms.

John woke, catching the baby before he fell. He sat. "Moira?" He moved to sit on the bed, set the baby carefully onto her lap. "There, son." The baby cooed, smiling. Touching the hospital gown with wonder.

Moira felt tears, kissed the baby, cuddling him. "Darling," she whispered into his silky hair. She looked up to see John's expression of relief, of love. Worry. Tears mirroring her own. "John."

He leaned close, kissed her. A gentle motion of his lips on hers. "Moira, thank God!" he murmured. "I thought I...I thought I lost..." He reined in his emotions. "Here." He held up a cup of water to her lips.

She sipped. Swallowed. "Thank you. I...I swerved."

"What?" He scooted closer, took her hand into his as the other touched the baby's back.

"I swerved," she repeated, blinking against the harsh hospital lights. "To protect Johnny. The knife...my side instead of him."

"Oh. Thank God."

"You, you shot..."

"Yes."

She looked down, tears filling her eyes. "I...I've killed both of them now. Both."

"No, Moy. I killed her. She attacked you."

"She had every right! I, I killed her brother and now her! I...take him!" She shoved the baby towards John, but the infant clung to her, stubborn.

"Moy, you did not–"

"You see? You see? The monster you married? I can't do this, John! I can't raise him! I can't be with you! Take him! I don't want him! I don't want you!"

"No." John stood. "He needs you, Moy. I need you. You are stuck with us." He moved to the window. Stared out at the night. Steeling himself. Gut twisting.

"No! I don't want him, John! I don't love him! I don't love you! Don't you see? I can't love anyone! I can't! I can't! I can't!" she cried, trying to disengage herself from the baby but he clung, stubborn.

"You love us so much you would let us go," he replied calmly. "But we're not going anywhere. So get your shit together, Moira, because you are ours."

Moira stared. Cuddled the baby as he began to cry. She kissed him. "Sorry! I'm sorry, Johnny! I didn't mean that! I do love you, I do! I love your father!" The baby quieted, sniffling. Cooing at her. Big blue eyes serious, sad.

John relaxed, felt the tension ease from his stomach. He moved back to sit close to her. Lifted her face and kissed her. "My Moira. Always."

"John...John, I..."

"Ssh." He kissed her again. "Sweetheart, I think we need to lay all of our cards on the table. Once you are out of here." He glanced at his son. The baby was cuddling against his mother, but one little hand was touching his father's leg. "He called me, you know. Screamed dada. To save you." He met her gaze. "When I saw you...him...I..." He gently touched her bandaged side. "It was, it was like what happened to my...to my..." He swallowed.

"John? Really?"

"Yes. So you. Me. All cards on the table. For his sake." He looked at his son again.

"I...I don't think I can."

"You will. I will." He met her worried gaze. "It will be all right, Moira. You were lucky. No organ damage. Just missed your rib cage. You'll be sore for a while and might even have a scar, but hey, I dig scars. You'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, John. I never thought something like, like this would happen."

"Huh. You never thought a psychotic bitch would try to kill you?"

"John! That's not fair! She–"

"She's a psychotic bitch. Oh. Sorry. Was. I'm sure as hell not going to allow you to defend her."

She looked at the baby. "Is he–"

"Fed, changed, cleaned, yeah, everything. He needs his mother. So do I." He kissed her. Eased her onto her back. "Get some sleep, sweetheart. Hold him for awhile. I'll be right here."

Moira settled back onto the bed, cuddling the baby to her. He gurgled, clutching her. She stroked his back, softly humming to comfort him. Blinking back tears. Emotions raw, mixed. Grief and anger. Worry and relief.

John moved to sit in the chair. Watched them, clamping down on his own emotions. His precious little family. Safe. Secure. Almost lost due to his negligence. He brooded, unable to sleep. The scene playing repeatedly in his mind, overlapping with the one from his past. Once Moira had fallen asleep he carefully extricated the baby from her arms. Placed him in his stroller. "Easy, Johnny. Go back to sleep." He kissed the infant, gently rocked the stroller until the infant snorted, fell asleep.

"John?"

He turned to her. Frowned as she sat up, wincing. "Damn it, Moy, go to sleep, would you? I just got Johnny down."

"John, John, I can't...I..." she stammered.

He sat close, kissed her. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'm right here. No one is getting near you, I swear. Or near him."

"John, John, I want to get out of here, okay? To our hotel room, please! Johnny can't be here, it's not good for him! All the germs. Please, John, he needs to be out of here! You need to take him out of here. I can't, I can't–"

"Ssh." He kissed her, gently drew him into his arms. She clung to him, soft sobs escaping her. He stroked her back, her hair. "Easy, Moira. We'll be out of here tomorrow, okay? ASAP, I promise. I'm not leaving your side, nor is he." He kissed her cheek, her brow.

Moira calmed in his arms, under his love, his care. "Okay, John. No. No!" She pulled back to meet his gaze. "We should leave now, okay? I can't sleep here and it's not good for Johnny and you can't sleep in that horrid chair, can you? Please, John, I don't want to be here! I'm fine now, right? We can go, please. Please, John, please," she urged, fingers clutching at his arms.

"Okay, Moira. Relax. I'll check with the doctor to see how soon we can go, all right? Keep an eye on Johnny. I'll be back in a sec." He kissed her. Stood. Glanced at the stroller and wheeled it closer to the bed. The baby was starting to fuss. He quickly exited the room.

Moira sighed, watching him leave. Turned to see the baby moving in the stroller. Pulling himself upright, fussing. Whimpering as he eyed his mother, so far from him. Out of reach. Big blue eyes full of tears again. Lips pouting. "Johnny...it's better this way, you'll see. You'll see. Daddy loves you, darling, and he can take care of you. I...just...I can't." She looked round, but didn't see her clothes anywhere. A robe was across the room. She frowned. Debating. Only felt the need to flee, to escape. To leave before she could cause further harm to the ones she loved the most. Her husband. Her son.

The baby fussed, the prelude to a cry as his little hands grasped the edge of the stroller. As if he would climb out of it to reach her. As if he guessed her erratic intentions.

"No! Johnny, don't! You stay there! You stay right there, please! I'm sorry, Johnny, I just can't do this, I can't..."

The baby started to cry. To climb. "Mama! Mama, mama, mama!"

"No! No, Johnny, please!" Moira scrambled out of the bed, forgetting her injury. She pulled the

stroller to her, gathered the baby into her arms as he cried. She kissed him, cuddling him. Ignoring the soreness of her side, the anguish of her conflicted emotions. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, darling! I won't leave you, I won't! Ssh, ssh!"

The baby clutched, sniffling. Making little noises as he clung to his mother. Catching her hair, the hospital gown in his little hands.

Moira gently rocked him, kissed him. Caressed his back. Hummed softly into his dark hair. She circled his ear, gently nibbled to make him coo, make him giggle. Distress forgotten as his mother showered love onto him. She smiled. "You are so like your father," she whispered fondly. "There now. All better? I'm sorry, darling. You have no idea how hard it is. I won't let you know. You'll never know about the darkness," she fiercely vowed, kissing him again.

The baby's grasp relaxed. He prattled softly, content. Safe in his mother's arms. Hearing her heartbeat, her soft voice. Her kisses and caresses soothing.

Moira wiped her eyes. Looked up to see John standing in the doorway, watching. His expression serious, protective. Warm as he walked to her. "John, um, John...I wasn't going to, to leave or anything, I just...Johnny was upset. He almost climbed out of the stroller!"

"He needs his mother. Yes. And you need him, Moy. The doctor agrees this is no place for a baby. He's agreed to release you into my care. So as soon as Johnny's settled we can go." He glossed over her halting admission, but wondered if she really would have fled. Left the baby. Left him. Understanding the overwhelming guilt and sorrow all too well.

"Oh. Oh? All right..." She kissed the baby. "Here."

John took the infant, set him into the stroller. "That's my boy." He strapped him in, placed a clean blanket over him. "Relax, junior." He looked at Moira. "I don't have a change of clothes for you so you'll have to wear a robe over that."

"Okay, John...I..."

"I'll help you, sweetheart. Don't you worry." He crossed the room, grabbed the robe. Moved to her but shook his head as she was moving to her feet. "Wait. Let Johnny relax first. There's no rush, sweetheart. Sit."

Moira did so, frowning as John still had the robe in his hands. "Look, John...I..."

"No. Were you really going to abandon us, Moy?" he asked, having to know. His fingers clenching the robe.

She gulped. Nearly squirmed under his intense gaze. "Um...no. I just...John, you don't know. What I am. What I really am. You've only gotten a, a glimpse and if you knew, if you knew–"

"Wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, Moira. That's why I said all cards on the table. We probably should have done it a long time ago...but I just couldn't risk it. Risk losing you."

"You won't lose me, John, you won't–"

"Won't I? Hell, I almost lost you now, didn't I? And I don't mean the attack, do I?" He scowled. "So no. It's time." He handed her the robe. "Let's go. The sooner we get this over with the better. Then you need to rest and recover. And we have to resume the mission."


	7. Chapter 7

Mutagenesis7

Moira eased herself onto the hotel bed. Clad in a comfy oversized t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms she watched as John settled the baby into his cradle. She touched her side where a clean bandage protected her wound. It was still sore, painful if she moved the wrong way. As if she could still feel the knife embedded in her.

"There you go, captain. Better?" John asked.

"Gaga goo...gaga..." the baby muttered.

"Dada. Yes, I thought so. Now go to sleep." He switched on the sound machine. Felt its gentle vibrations. He stroked the baby's tummy, eliciting a smile from the infant. "Don't you worry, captain. I'll take care of your mother." He made sure the baby's toy was in reach. Adjusted the blanket over him. Turned to his wife. "Moy?"

"I'm fine, John. Go. Get ready for bed."

"Okay, sweetheart. Back in five." John entered the bathroom. Washed his face, brushed his teeth. Rubbed his eyes, his scruffy jaw. He changed into a navy t-shirt, plaid boxers. Stood staring at himself in the mirror. Saw the dread, the anxiety. Steeling himself for what was to come. Reassuring himself that all was well. That Moira was fine, recovering. Safe. With the baby. That she would love him no matter what. That he would love her no matter what. He had no doubt about his feelings, but felt a twinge of worry over hers. He returned to see Moira still sitting on the bed, gingerly touching her side. "Does it hurt? I've got your pain pills if you need them," he offered.

"No. It's sore, that's all." She watched him dim the lights. Grab a beer from the mini bar. He drank slowly, eyes darting to her, to the cradle where the baby slept. To the curtains drawn across the city lights. Cloaking the night, muting the city sounds. He moved to the bed at last. Sat next to her. Offered her the bottle.

Moira took a sip. Another. Made a face at the taste. Handed it back to him. He smiled fondly. Drank more. Licked his lips. "Um, John...you should get some sleep, okay? I'm fine. Okay?"

He was silent, debating. Waiting. She sighed. Ran her fingers through her hair. Nervously gathered it together and pulled it in front of her to spill down to her breasts. "Look, John...I just can't. Okay? I can't talk about it. About the, the expedition. We need to focus on the mission. That's what you said, John. We need to finish the mission, right? I think we should bring Daniel Jackson in on this to check the Ancient database here. To see if there are any references here to this kind of experimentation that may not have been erased like they were in the Pegasus galaxy. We know an Ancient was behind this, John. We even know which one, right? Baldy. Has to be. The question is why."

"So you want me to call Doctor Jackson tomorrow? To meet up with us and the professor?" he asked quietly, staring at the cradle now. He sipped more beer.

"Yes." She touched his arm. Almost shyly. "Thank you, John. As along as I can, can focus on the science I'll be fine. It's always been my refuge, you know. As long as I can focus on you, on Johnny..." She took a steadying breath. Released it. Fingers moving on his arm. "John?"

He wordlessly offered the bottle again. She took it, sipped. Sipped. Handed it back to him. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Fingers trembling slightly. He drank the rest. Long, long swallows. Set it aside. Got up suddenly and grabbed another from the mini-bar.

She stared, startled. Worried. Watched him open the bottle. Drink more. Move back to sit beside her on the bed. "John? Sweetie, there's no need to get drunk. I'm fine, really. John...I do have a few theories about what is going on in the Pegasus galaxy, and I know that the professor can shed more light on it. I know you are angry with me because I told him so much but you will just have to trust me, trust him. We are so close, John, to not only discovering the origin of those creatures but the very origin of the Wraith themselves!" She launched into the science quickly. Desperately. "These creatures, all the results of genetic manipulation. Evo-devo, John! But he's doing it all wrong! He's only accessing half of the genome. If he did utilize both genomes then theoretically he could recreate the first Wraith, the first species before they evolved into what they are now, became so intertwined that the DNA cannot be separated now! Do you know what that means, John?"

"No, I don't, and I really don't care, Moira," he replied morosely, thoughts on more immediate concerns. "Why would Baldy want to recreate the first Wraith, the progenitor of the species?"

She considered, fingers grasping his arm again. "I don't know. To find a weakness in them? To help fight them? But it wouldn't be the same as fighting them now. I don't know, John, and I have a feeling we need to know. I have a feeling it encompasses more than just the, the Wraith. The, the reverse migratory patterns...maybe if we tracked that..."

"It's being done as we speak. Both Lorne and McKay are working independently on that with their own stuff. With any luck their work will converge and we can triangulate the coordinates to a narrow trajectory."

"Oh." She bit her lower lip, thinking. Glanced at the cradle where the baby slept. "Carson. Carson is doing a full work-up of Johnny's DNA. And he's checking the data base again for any mention of the double ATA...we should have Daniel do the same, John, here, just in case."

John drank more. He could hear the anxiety, the thread of fear under her flow of words. Fear of being swallowed by the darkness, the past. Rushing into the science to hold onto it, as surely as she was grasping his arm now. The horrific scene played in his mind. Over and over. Moira on the floor. Bloody. The baby sprayed in blood, wailing. His own past invaded, replaying the old scenario again and again. Of his mother covered in blood. Himself helpless to stop, to aid. His fingers tightened around the bottle.

Moira could feel the past like a dark wave rearing to drown her. Memories clawing at her. Guilt so strong it was palpable. A weight on her. She blinked back tears. "John, John, go to sleep. You need to sleep. It's getting late. You should, should sleep," she stammered. Gentled her hold on his arm, suddenly realizing her nails were digging into him although he hadn't made a sound.

John drank. Swallowed. Cleared his throat. "It was a Sunday afternoon," he began without warning. "Hot as hell. Still. Lazy. I was almost eight years old."

Moira stared, shocked. Heart skipping a beat. Her fingers slid down to his hand. "John? John, no...you...you don't have to...oh my God!" she realized with a start. "No! You don't have to do this, John! I can't! I can't talk about it!"

"My father and older brother had gone out. Left me in charge," he continued, ignoring her protestations. Voice bland, as if talking about the weather. He stared ahead, at nothing. At the yawning chasm of memory. Guilt. Darkness. "Mom wasn't feeling well again. She had some problems. I was supposed to look after her. That Sunday."

"John, no. Please, please, don't do this!" Moira argued. "You don't have to do this. Please! Sweetie, I can't...I can't...so you don't have to do this!"

"But my friend called," John forged ahead. His heart hammering. Voice steady, toneless. He knew he had to tell her. So she would tell him. Or it would eat her up inside. The guilt fresh, the pain renewed. He knew all too well what would happen. What could happen. "Hugh. Wanted to go out on our bikes. Down to the less opulent neighborhoods. Slumming, he called it. It was a perfect day for it."

Moira turned to him, wincing at the pain. She touched his lips. "No, John. Stop. I won't let you do this. You were right all along. To leave things in the shadows. To keep those doors shut."

He finally met her gaze. Saw such sorrow, misery. Sympathy. He kissed her fingers, gently moving her hand away. "No. Those doors are wide open for you, Moira, and if I don't go in there you will drown. Believe me, I know. I've been drowning for years, Moy. Until I met you. Until I met you."

"No, please..." she whispered. A few tears fell. Spilled from her brown eyes. Depths of brown that John could lose himself in, could be persuaded to do anything for her. "I don't want to do this. I don't want you to do this. What happened to me...I deserved it. I deserved–"

He kissed her lips, kept her hand in his. Subtle caresses of his fingers on hers. "Did I deserve what happened to me? Probably. Did you? Hell no. My Moira." He viewed the room. "So I left," he resumed his narrative. "Without a word. You know, the careless way kids do. Only for an hour. Except it was two hours. Two hours." He paused. Briefly closed his eyes as if steeling himself for what was to come.

Moira caressed his arm. Snuggled against him, as if she could shield him from the memories. From the pain. "John, don't," she whispered. Kissed his cheek. "Don't. I love you, John. Please, don't do this for me."

"When I rode up the drive I saw the front door. Wide open. I knew. I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. The silence. Before a storm, you know? I jumped off my bike. Ran inside. Called for mom." He swallowed. Sipped some beer. "Fuck. I'm gonna need another. Hold this, please."

"John?" She took the bottle as he stood. Moved to the mini-bar and grabbed another. He returned to her. Took the half-empty bottle and drained it dry. Set it aside and opened the full one. Sipped. "Um, John, please. You don't have to do this. I mean, don't get drunk. I need you sober tomorrow. For the mission, sweetie. Remember? Focus on the mission."

He sipped. Stared at nothing. Memories all too vivid in his mind. "I called for mom. I heard noises then. Voices. Not familiar. I ran into the kitchen. And found her." He stopped again.

Moira caressed his arm, shifting. Wincing at the pain in her side, in her heart at his words. What he was doing for her. Out of love for her. "I'm sorry, sweetie..." she whispered. Kissed his brow.

"It...it was like you, Moy. Sort of. That's why I froze for a second when I saw you like that. Mom was on the floor. Like you were. But it was worse. She was cut. Sliced along her waist. Blood was everywhere. Running towards my shoes. My new sneakers." He looked down, as if he was seeing them. "Cut so bad...viscera showing...blood had sprayed on the, the puppy. Oscar. He was cowering in the corner...sprayed with blood like, like Johnny was...I..."

He paused as Moira gasped, her hold on his hand tightening. He took a long, long swallow of beer. Felt unshed tears burning behind his eyes. "I froze. Froze. Stood there like a fucking idiot. As if I couldn't believe my eyes. Then I ran to her. Slipped in the blood and fell. Was hauled up by a guy. A big guy. One of them. There were two. Robbing us. Mom resisted. Wouldn't give up her jewelry, her, her wedding ring." He touched the ring on Moira's finger. "Her fucking jewelry, Moy!"

She gasped again. Not from his vehement outburst but from the startling similarity to her own experience. John looked over as the baby stirred, disturbed by his father's raised voice. Quieted. John drank, drank. Licked his lips. "That's what they told me. I broke free. Ran to the den where dad kept his handguns. Fuck, I could barely load it, much less shoot it. So fucking scared I nearly pissed myself. Ran back but they were gone. I tried to call 911 but I...I couldn't even dial the phone! Blood all over my hands, my clothes, the dog. I knelt to her, tried to, to staunch the wound with a towel...I..I couldn't...I couldn't do a damn thing! I..." He downed the beer. Threw the bottle onto the floor. It bounced, rolled on the plush carpet.

"John...oh John...you, you were just a child! My God...you, you..." she stammered.

He turned to her, hid his face in her hair, against her as she drew him close. She kissed his brow.

"They found me like that," he resumed, voice quiet, low. "Trying to, to stop the blood, the entrails leaking out...but she was already dead, had been dead. I was covered in blood. My...if I hadn't have frozen, had hesitated, had dialed the...my fault. All of it, Moy! I may as well have killed, killed, killed her myself!"

"No! Don't be ridiculous, John!" She kissed his brow, stroked his hair. "Ssh! You were just a child, John. You didn't know any of that would happen. How could you? You should never have been put in that position! You were just a child! My God! Who could possibly blame you?"

"Everyone," he muttered against her hair. "And they were right."

"No! No!" She lowered her voice. Kissed his brow, his cheek. "No." She drew back, taking his face into hers. Seeing the utter misery, the utter guilt. "You listen to me, John Sheppard. You were only a child. You are not to blame. Not for that. Not for anything!"

"I am...I let her die, Moy," he said, anguish breaking his voice. "I should have been there in the first place! And even when I was there I was too late...too stupid...too fucking stupid to do what I should have done!"

"You were in shock, John! You were just a little boy!" She kissed him, a fierce, demanding kiss that all but devoured his lips, tasting his tears. His sorrow. His guilt. Drinking it in as if she could erase it. She kissed his cheeks, his lips again. "I love you, John. You are not to blame. Do you hear me, colonel? You are not to blame," she said firmly.

He sat back, wiped his eyes. A brief smile. "My Moira. So fierce."

"Yes, John," she agreed. Kissed him again. Touched his hand. "You've been carrying that around for years, haven't you? Buried deep inside. But each additional loss...you blame yourself for all of them. For each and every one."

"Yes," he agreed tiredly. Drained. "I've never told anyone all of it. Until you." He looked at her. Saw love, compassion. No horror. No disdain. No repugnance.

"It's all right, John. I'm not going anywhere. Nor is Johnny." She kissed him. Nestled close. "I know it won't go away. But you are not to blame. Not at all. I won't let you go on believing that. I don't care what you believe, what others have told you or what they believe. I don't care. They never should have blamed you. You never should have blamed yourself. It wasn't your fault. Never yours, John. Never yours."

He closed his eyes, letting her love wash over him. Her warmth envelop him. Sympathy and defense combining to shield him, protect him. Assuage the darkness in him. Accepting his words, his feelings. Understanding yet at the same time trying to heal him. He felt the buzz of the alcohol, realized he hadn't eaten anything for several hours. But felt remarkably clear-headed. Sober. At least at the moment. "Your turn."

"What?" Moira stared at him, moving slightly.

John opened his eyes. Met her anxious gaze. "I showed you mine, sweetheart. Time to show me yours."

"No."


	8. Chapter 8

Mutagenesis8

Moira stared, aghast. Heart pounding in her chest so fast she thought it would break free. "I...I can't," she squeaked to her denial.

"It won't change the way I feel about you, Moy. Go on," he urged. Kissed her.

She sighed. Drew away from him. Eyed the cradle. "It will, John. Because, because it was my fault. I wasn't a child."

"You were young–"

"Not a child. The...the expedition." She swallowed. "It wasn't my first expedition. A week. In the Badlands of South Dakota. A, a new find. It wasn't even my field. My specialty, I mean. I was...James." Her voice lowered at the name, at the memory. Guilty. She felt her stomach twist, tense.

John touched her arm. "Go on, Moira. I'm not going anywhere. Nor is Johnny."

"You should. You both should. You, you should take your son and run from me, John, before something terrible happens," she warned. "I...I was so stupid! So...I never thought anything would happen, you know? The stupidity of youth. We'd been out there a week. Excavating a prehistoric settlement. Clovis people. We found some dinosaur fossils too, of all things, we weren't even looking for those. There were reports of looters in the area. We'd run into that kind of thing before. Nothing serious. There, there were reports of drug runners. Rumors, we, we thought. I mean, we were in the middle of the United States! Not in some South American jungle!"

"So you weren't expecting any trouble," he reasoned. "Why would you? Moy? You'd been there a week," John gently prodded. Fingers stroking her arm. Up and down. Up and down.

Moira stared at nothing. Eyes full of tears. "The, the locals warned us. Most of the team had left already. James...he was, he was ready to go too. But I...I found a fossil. _Nimravus_, from the Oligocene. An early feline, not a true cat though. I wanted to stay to excavate the skeleton. It was nearly complete with the skull, quite a find for an, an undergraduate. I convinced James to, to...we went back but...we interrupted...there was a drop-off point in the canyon for the drug runners to...to...we..." She stopped, breathing hard, fast.

"Easy, Moy. I'm right here." John scooted closer to her. Slid his arm around her, careful of the bandage at her side. He kissed her cheek, her throat. "Go on, sweetheart. I'm right here. I love you, Moy."

"No...no, you don't. You won't. No one. No one can love me. Don't you see? They caught us. They...oh God..." she gulped. "They wanted...they wanted my, my engagement ring but I...I wouldn't give it to them. I was so stupid! I wouldn't give it to them, John! They were going to, to...James gave them his wallet, his watch. Everything. But I...I...there was a fight among them. The y were really drunk or high, I don't know. James told me to go. Shoved me out of there, up the canyon wall but he fell back...he...to cover me, my escape...he...he shouldn't have done that! He should have gone with me!"

"Ssh," John soothed, as the baby stirred.

"He wouldn't! If he had just gone with me he wouldn't have died..." she said, voice small. Miserable. "I ran. I thought he was right behind me. It was dark, so dark! I heard...I heard them catch him. I heard him shout...scream...oh God, John!"

He drew her against his chest, stroking her back. He kissed her brow. "It's all right, Moira. I'm here. You can't blame yourself for–"

"No! You don't understand! If I hadn't insisted he's still be alive! He died to, to protect me! To save me! And I...I got lost! I tried to get back to him, to help him, but it was so dark! And when I did make my way back it was too, too late! He was alone in that canyon, dying alone in that canyon. They, they cut at him with their knives. All the, the blood all over the sand, the rocks. The pain he must have endured. I should have gone for help, I should have stayed, I should have...it should have been me!"

"No, no, no," he argued as she dissolved into tears. Clutching, clinging to him. As if he was a raft that could save her from the currents of distress, of guilt threatening to drown her. "Ssh, Moy." He kissed her brow, her cheek. Held her close, stroking her back, her hair. "You would have been killed too. If you had stayed. You didn't know what was going to happen. You had no indication of any trouble like that, right?" She nodded against him. "You can't blame yourself for escaping. I would have done the same thing. Made you run to safety. Stayed behind to make sure you were safe. You can't blame yourself for that. For getting lost in the dark. In the desert. You can't blame yourself, Moira."

"He, he died. Because of me," she said in a small voice. Tears abating, clinging to John. His strength. His love. His compassion.

"No. He died to protect you. To save you. And as hard as that is for you to bear you must. I would do the same. You know that. It's not your fault, sweetheart. None of it."

"I'm a monster, John."

"No. No!" He caught her face in his hands, making her meet his gaze. Saw her sorrow, misery, guilt. "You listen to me, Moira Sheppard. You are not to blame. And any idiot that does blame you is, well, an idiot. You are no more a monster than I am. Am I a monster, Moira?"

"No! You were a–"

"Neither are you, then. We're fucked up, sure. But we're not monsters, Moira." He kissed her. Ran kisses along her wet cheeks. Tasting her salty tears. Her sorrow. He brushed her hair from her face, tender motions of his fingers. "I love you, Moira. I love you even more now, if that is even possible. My Moira."

"John..." she whispered, overcome. Losing herself in his fierce, smouldering gaze. Brilliant green eyes full of passion, protection.

"Here." He laid back, guiding her gently with him. He held her close, careful of her injury. "Sleep. We need to sleep now, Moira. All cards on the table now. And look. We're still here. Still together. With Johnny. Still love each other."

"Yes, John..." She snuggled, holding onto him. As if he might try to escape. "John...it...it's so..."

"I know." He kissed her brow. "But it's out now. All of it. It will never go away, like you said. But it's out now. We're still here. Together. Nothing will ever part us, or change that. Nothing. Now go to sleep. Tomorrow we will resume the mission. Okay?"

"Okay, John. I...I..."

"No. No more talking. It's done. All cards on tables," he slurred slightly, closing his eyes. "My Moira. Mine now. Always."

"Always, John. Always," she agreed.

He sloppily kissed her. "Want sex, my Moira?"

She smiled. "Go to sleep, John."

"Need sex. Lots. Sheal, seal deal. Shex, sex," he muttered.

She kissed him. "Ssh, John. Go to sleep."

"Sure? No shex sex, Moira?" he asked, shifting on the bed. Already drifting to sleep.

She kissed him. "Not yet, John. Go to sleep." She snuggled into him. "Oh John..."

Moira woke from a sound sleep. The baby was fussing. John was snoring. She scooted free of his arms. Sat. Winced and touched her bandage. Eyed the room. "Hold on, Johnny," she said. She nudged John. Pushed. Pushed. Elbowed him. "John!"

He snorted, rolling onto his other side, finally quiet. Still asleep.

She leaned close, kissed her scruffy cheek. Stared at him. Recalling their confessions. The acceptance. The understanding. The love. She felt tears. "John..." She touched his arm. The baby started to cry. "Hush, Johnny, I'm here." She got off the bed. Moved to the baby.

"Mama! Mama goo!"

"Ssh, darling, mama's here." She lifted him, kissed him. "We're all here, Johnny. We're all here. See? Look." She turned to the bed. John was sprawled on his side, pajamas rumpled. Shirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of his bare flesh at his back. "Daddy's still here. See? He loves us, darling. He loves us and he won't leave us. He, he loves me. He loves me," she marveled, staring at him. Felt tears. "Oh John..." She controlled her emotions, carried the baby to the bathroom.

John stirred. Squinted, head throbbing. He buried his face in the pillows but the horrible taste in his mouth made him gag. He listened. "Moira?" he croaked. Heart hammering at the silence. Fearing she'd left him after all. Left him despite her acceptance, her love. Her absolution that rolled over him like a balm. He rolled onto his back. Heard her soft voice, his son's prattling in the other room. He relaxed.

"John?"

He opened his eyes, sat. Groggy. Groaned. Stared as she neared. Moira has showered. Wore a floral dress that fell to her knees. A pattern of pleasing hues of greens and blues and purples. Her hair was loose. Long brown strands catching the sunlight streaming through the window. He longed to run his fingers through it. "Moy?"

She sat close. "Here."

He took the offered aspirin, water. "Thanks. Um...are we...are we okay?"

She smiled. Kissed his cheek. "Yes. We're okay, John." The baby exclaimed in the other room, calling her. "Easy, Johnny," she called, turned back to her husband. "Go back to sleep. We've got an hour before breakfast."

"Breakfast?"

"Yes. I made some calls. In the hotel's restaurant. Daniel and the professor will be joining us." She gently eased him onto his back, caressed his temples. "You have an hour, John. Relax."

He caught her hand before she could leave. "Moira, sweetheart...am I...am I still your, um, your sweetie?" he asked shyly. Consternation lining his brow.

She smiled. Kissed his lips. "Yes, John. You will always be my sweetie. Am I still your baby?"

He smiled. "Always, Moy. Always."

"Get some sleep, colonel. One hour." She stood as the baby prattled loudly. "Johnny, here I come." She moved to the other room. "Ssh, darling. Daddy needs to sleep. He's got one hell of a hangover so be quiet."

John smiled. Closed his eyes, relaxing. Reassured. Content. His little family safe, secure. With him. Moira's love intact. Even stronger, he mused, as he felt his own love for her to be stronger. More intense. Deeper, somehow, as if their secrets, their guilt, their darkness had joined them in a way that was even stronger than the passion, the attraction, the sex. He pondered it. Pondered Moira's theories about the ATA gene, the mutual attraction to produce Johnny with his double ATA gene.

He fell asleep as the thoughts flitted through his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

Mutagenesis9

Moira settled the stroller next to the table. Straightened her son's tiny flannel shirt. "There. Sorry about that."

"No problem, Moira," Daniel Jackson smiled as she sat across from the two men.

"How are you feeling, Moira?" Jared asked.

"I'm fine. No," she held up a hand, forestalling his concern. "Really. Just sore. I'm sorry, Professor McKenzie, this is Doctor Jackson. A...colleague."

"Ah...he works with you and the colonel?" Jared asked, glancing at the other man. Sizing up the blond hair, earnest blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. Muscled form clad in a simple pale blue shirt and dark blue pants.

"Sort of," Daniel answered, exchanging a glance with Moira. "Is something wrong? Moira?"

"She was attacked. In the museum. Stabbed," Jared informed. Shaking his head over it.

"Stabbed? By whom? Why? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she answered, eying the professor. "It was a random attack, that's all. I'm fine. Johnny's fine too. John...he should be awake by now. May I borrow your phone, Daniel?"

"Of course." He handed it to her, look of concern still on his face.

John's own snoring woke him. He snorted, rolled onto his side. Sat and rubbed his eyes, his temples. The headache had faded to an annoying pressure. "Moy?" He frowned. Got off the bed, moved to quickly shower. Wondered where she had gone, where she had taken the baby. A fear came and passed. Confidence reasserting itself. Confidence in her words, in her love.

He had just stepped out of the shower, was wrapping a towel around his waist when his phone rang. He grabbed it off the counter. "Moy?"

"Hey, John," she replied, stepping away from the table. Lowering her voice. The baby gurgled happily.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"I told you, sweetie. Breakfast."

"Oh. Right. I just showered. Hey, baby, why don't you get that pert little ass up here right now. I'm soaking wet, Moira. Dripping wet, in nothing but a towel," he teased with a smile.

Moira smiled, sighed into the phone. "As tempting as that is, sweetie, no. Why don't you get that fine, fine ass of yours down here to us. Daniel and the professor are here, John."

"Oh. Right. Crap. On my way, baby."

"Oh, John," she added with a smirk, "put on that red woven shirt, and leave three or four buttons undone. And those tight, tight black jeans, would you? And don't shave. When you don't shave you have that sexy, dangerous look."

John grinned. "Whatever you desire, baby."

She snorted. "Oh, it's not for me, sweetie. I just thought the professor could use a thrill." As he began to scold her she laughed, shut the phone. She returned to the table. "Thank you, Daniel." She handed him the phone, took her seat. "He's on his way. He wasn't feeling too well."

"No wonder. Are you sure you're all right, dear?" Jared asked.

"Yes. Oh no, Johnny!" She grabbed some napkins. The baby had smeared apple sauce all over his face, his hands. Everywhere but into his mouth. "You're supposed to eat it, not wear it!"

"He's been busy," Jared remarked with a smile.

Moira sighed. "Here, darling. In your mouth." She held the spoon. "Here we go. Here comes the plane. Zoom zoom!" The baby gurgled, eying her quizzically. Shaking his head, little mouth shut against the spoon. "I know, your father is much better at this." The men laughed. Moira eyed them. "Would either of you care to–"

"I think that's John's purview," Daniel jested. Looked over suddenly. "Morning, John."

John smiled, scooting the stroller aside to sit next to his wife. "Daniel." He eyed the other man. "Professor." The older man was staring at him, mouth nearly open in astonished admiration. John fought to keep the scowl off his face. Eyed his wife. "Moira." She was staring at him as well, admiration and concern mixing with amusement. He gave her a mock glare. "Excuse me, junior. What are you doing, buddy?"

"Gaga! Gaga goo!"

"Dada. What is that?"

"Applesauce. Will you feed him, John? He wants the plane," Moira informed, trying not to laugh. She gently kicked the professor's foot under the table, startling the older man out of his blatant stare.

"Moira tried but she wasn't very good at it," Daniel explained.

"Yeah, she's a terrible pilot," John agreed. Glanced up to see a waitress staring at him, seemingly transfixed. "Just coffee, please. Coffee," he repeated as she blinked. Nodded and left. He met Moira's gaze, smirked at her. Turned to his son. "Here we go, junior." He took the spoon, loaded it with applesauce. "Zoom zoom!"

The baby clapped as his father made plane sounds, swept the spoon in an arc. His big blue eyes followed it. He chortled. Little mouth open now. He ate the sauce with a grin.

"He is better at it then you," Daniel noted.

"Oh much, but I'm learning." She met the professor's gaze, added slyly, "you have no idea how very, very good John is." She smirked as John glanced at her, catching her innuendo. He scowled at her, turned back to the baby.

"Here you go, junior. Zoom zoom!" As John fed the baby the others finished their breakfast. He wiped his son's face clean, leaning over as the baby dropped a toy. "Here." He suddenly straightened, feeling his shirt riding up. Wondering if his jeans had gaped to reveal his red boxer shorts. He turned. The professor was looking elsewhere, but Moira was watching him. Smiling.

"I do like red, colonel," she purred softly.

He winked at her, drank his coffee. "So?" he demanded. Grabbed a bacon strip off her plate to nibble. Waited.

"Do you want to order something?" she asked.

"No. I'm not hungry. Report."

"John! These are not your marines," she scolded. "I'm sorry. Before he gets his first cup of coffee he's like a bear woken early out of hibernation." They laughed. The baby giggled.

John eyed his son. "You think that's funny, junior? Ha ha." He tickled the baby. The infant chortled happily. John smiled at him.

Moira said, "Daniel, were you able to find anything in the database about experimentation?" John snagged a sausage from her plate, devoured it. Drank more coffee. She sighed, pushed her plate in front of him. John smiled, winked at the baby who grinned, began to prattle.

"Yes. A few vague references...references as if whomever was reading it was familiar with the history, the facts so they are rather oblique and informed." He consulted his notes, producing a notepad from his pocket. "Some kind of experimentation at a genetic level to stabilize their populations...apparently they were playing with the ATA gene and trying to do something. Something happened in the Pega..." he paused as John cleared his throat. "In the other place," Daniel changed his terminology, "and the research was abandoned. There were references to a war of some sort. Internecine strife...some kind of creatures...it's all very vague. And very little is left in the records."

Moira was staring at him, about to speak when John caught her knee under the table. Fingers slowly pulling up the folds of her dress to distract her before she spoke. "Nothing specific to the creatures, then? To this kind of...what was it called? Evo-devo."

"Evo what?" Daniel asked, brows furrowing in puzzlement.

"Not the 80s group. I checked," John quipped.

"Evolutionary developmental biology," Jared supplied. Producing his own note pad which he handed to Moira. "I took the liberty of doing some additional testing on those samples. And on a few other samples. Moira, the jumping gene. I have it."

"You...what?" Moira eyed the notes scrawled on the pad. She looked at John whose fingers had stilled on her bare knee. "John! He has the ATA–"

"Classified, Moira," he gently reminded. Frowned. Glanced at the baby who was happily prattling at the older man. As if he could sense it. "Wait." He eyed the professor. "Are you telling me the jumping gene is the ATA? That can't be right. Those creatures don't have the ATA...at any evolutionary stage."

"Are you sure, colonel? Because it's the same, well, nearly so. It's been modified to a degree, but it only appears in the–"

"Human genome...traces of it in those creatures, in the Wraith...they...but they don't have it."

"What is it, exactly? What am I missing here?" Jared asked.

"Classified," John repeated.

"I need to know, colonel. Because this gene," he pointed to the paper Moira held, "is acting in concert with a few other things I have never seen. A few genetic anomalies that I suspect are not anomalies where you come from. Such as the Medea gene. Such as some kind of enzyme that is unlike anything I have ever seen before. I need all of the facts, colonel."

"I'm afraid that's classified, professor," John noted. "You already know too much as it is." He glanced at Moira who slightly shrugged. "The more important thing here is how are these creatures being created...being made more primitive, and you answered that."

"Yes, colonel, but it's being done in the wrong way, only half-way, as I told you. If you would give me all of the facts I could determine more, and maybe even why."

"There are no records of this kind of specific experimentation to produce more primitive forms of the Wraith," Daniel interjected, intrigued. "In fact there is very little mention of the Wraith here since they only exit over in the Pegasus galaxy! Oh...sorry!" Daniel shrugged to John's glower.

"The Pegasus...what?" Jared asked.

"Just pretend you didn't hear that," John stated gruffly. Downed the cup of coffee. He sipped some water, glanced at his son. The baby was sucking on a toy, one little hand grasping at his father's leg. Staring up at his father.

"Hear what?" Jared agreed. B ut eyed Moira. Mouthed to her Pegasus galaxy?

She nodded, but froze as John eyed her. His hand moving along her thigh now, grasping the material of her dress in his fingers. "Um...okay." She looked at her son. Met John's gaze worriedly. "He–"

"No. Not here." He eyed the men. "I think we're done here. We know what these things are, and how they are being created. That just leaves–"

"I'm sorry, colonel, but no, you are far from being done here," Jared objected. "Who has the technology not to mention the knowledge to flip the Hox switches and completely alter the DNA of a creature, any creature? To this extent? And in the wrong way. What are they hoping to achieve? Are they striving to reach the most primitive state or are they trying to unleash a monster? And this, these odd genes, this enzyme in the junk DNA, the–"

"It's in the junk DNA?" Moira asked. "Then how–"

"Enough! We can't be discussing this in a–" John attempted.

"It's too late for that, John," Daniel observed. "The cat's out of the bag."

"Not helping, Daniel. I wasn't authorized for full disclosure at this level and the–"

"Worried about your bosses, colonel?" Jared asked. "What other secrets are the military keeping from us? If these things are on the loose here, or somewhere we need to alert the authorities! We need to find a way to mitigate the genetic tampering by–"

"Not here. They're not here, they are–" Moira began.

"Moira! No. That's enough!"

"Then I can't help you." The professor sat back. Folded his arms across his chest. "If I don't have the complete picture I cannot possibly bring this research to a successful and logical conclusion. You only have half of the answer, colonel. Will that be enough? Wherever you are stationed you led me to believe that these things...these Wraith and these creatures pose a very real threat. I have a feeling you would do anything in your power to stop them. But if you don't have the information you need you won't be able to do that. If you provide nothing I can only give you nothing."

"Gaga! Gaga goo! Gaga!" the baby cried, wanting his father's attention.

John ignored his son, staring back at the professor. "Then I guess that's that. I can't reveal more. You already have too much intel for me and for the military to be comfortable with. You will need to sign a non-disclosure agreement to file with the Air Force at Cheyenne Mountain and then you will be debriefed to–"

"John!" Moira protested. "No! We can trust him! We need him! We need his help."

"SOP, Moira, as well you know." He met her gaze. "And I haven't even started in on you yet, doctor. Do you have any idea how many protocols you broke?"

"Civilians are employed to break those protocols, John, because you military types can't," Daniel stated. Frowned. "You sound like Jack, do you know that? Sometimes we have to think outside the box, outside the rules. If we didn't do that we wouldn't even have a Stargate program!"

"A Stargate...what's that?" Jared asked.

"Daniel! Damn it!" John swore. "You're still not helping! This is why I don't like working with scientists!"


	10. Chapter 10

Mutagenesis10

Moira smiled as the two other scientists frowned. She touched John's arm. Gently caressed. "John. What the colonel is saying is that where we work...it is highly classified. The things we do are classified. But Daniel's right, John. We need to go outside of our own network sometimes to get the answers we need. And you know that. I can vouch for the professor. And if there is any flak from the Air Force I will take the blame."

"No, you won't," John stated seriously.

"Gaga! Gaga goo? Gaga!" The baby tugged at John's jeans.

"Johnny wants–" Moira began, glancing at her son.

"Johnny needs to get it right," John stated, ignoring his son. "Am I to understand that you are refusing to help us further?"

"Yes." Jared frowned. "Simply because I can't. Not without the full picture."

"Gaga! Gaga gaga gaga!" the baby insisted.

"Johnny, ssh! John, would you–" Moira suggested.

"He's fine. Showboating. I can be as stubborn as he is," John informed.

"Shouldn't that be the other way around?" Daniel asked.

Moira smiled. "It is, believe me!" She eyed her son, tried not to smile. "He is pissed, John. You should see his face! Just like you when you are pissed."

"Rather like now," Jared agreed, glancing at the baby, back to his father. "Just clean-shaven."

"Ha ha." John scowled. "You don't want to see me get really angry."

"Oh, I think I do," Jared taunted. A smirk on his lips.

"Professor!" Moira objected. John's fingers were tight on her dress. The heat from his palm on her bare thigh as he clenched the material in his hand. "John, take care of Johnny."

"No. He needs to get it right, Moira," John refused.

"He's only a baby, John! Give it some time."

"He's gotten it right before, Moira. Where was I?"

"Getting pissed," Daniel noted with a smile.

"Ah. Thanks. Now you are being helpful," John quipped.

"Gaga!" The baby started to cry.

"Ignore him," John advised before Moira could speak. "He's showboating. Now, where, oh yeah. Pissed." He leaned forward, freeing Moira's dress. Hands on the table, clasped together. "If I release any more intel to you I will need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement, professor. That's how it works."

"I'm not signing anything, colonel."

"Dada!"

John smiled, turned to the stroller. "There! That wasn't so hard now was it, junior? Here we go!" He lifted the baby to his lap. "Now hush, buddy, I'm busy here."

"Gaga! Gaga goo!"

John sighed as the others laughed.

"He's as stubborn as you, John," Moira said. Grew serious. "Professor, please. I'm sorry, but we need your help. We need the full picture more than you do. The military...the people I work with...the man I married...they are all risking their lives every day to protect us. To protect me. To protect Johnny. And yes, it's all classified, but that's to protect us as well. I wish I could tell you everything! The wonders I've seen, the incredible things we've discovered...but I work with soldiers. And soldiers have rules. Rules which I have to follow. Rules which you have to follow too, professor, if you would help us. Help me. Help Johnny."

Jared sighed. "All right, Moira. For you. I'll need a few hours to run comparisons again to be sure. What I've given you there is just the basis with what little I had to work with."

"Thank you, professor. Daniel?"

He shrugged. "I'll double check the records...and records of our other, um, allies. There could be some information from another source."

"Thank you."

The baby started to fuss. John set him into the stroller. "Exactly, junior. We've had enough science for now. Besides, he needs to go shopping, right, buddy?"

"John? We still need to–"

"And you need to rest, Moira."

"No, I'm fine. I–"

"And didn't you tell me he needs new clothes. A new playpen? New everything?"

"Yes. I just–"

"Fine." John stood. "We'll reconvene in three hours. At," he checked his watch, "fourteen hundred or so. I'll call you with the details, the time and place."

"John!" She sighed. "What the colonel means is we would like to meet up later this afternoon around two o'clock to pursue any additional findings. Is that all right?"

"That's what I said," John objected.

"Fine by me, dear. Tell me, does he order you around like that?"

"He tries. Thank you. Both of you."

"Don't worry, Moira. I'm used to it. Jack," Daniel explained.

She smiled. Watched the two men leave. Stood. "John, you can't talk to them like that."

"Tries?" he asked as she took hold of the stroller.

"Where to, colonel?"

"Tries?" he repeated.

"Stop it!" She elbowed him, pushed the stroller.

He smiled, walked alongside her. "Do you need to rest?"

"No. I told you, I'm fine. What about you?"

He shrugged. "I've been better, but I'll manage."

John sighed, looked at his watch. Moved to Moira as she squatted in front of the stroller. She winced, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Moy?"

"I'm fine. Look, Johnny, do you like this?" She held up a navy and white sailor suit. The baby gurgled, touching her hand.

"I don't think he really cares, Moy," John observed.

"Of course he does! He likes certain colors more than others. Ow." She stood, touched her side. Turned to see John's assessing gaze on her. "I'm fine!" She stepped to him. "John, why don't you go pick out some sexy boxers," she suggested with a coy smile, a suggestive look. Her fingers played on his chest, ran down to his belt. "Something silky. Cute. Like polka dots or plaid or little trains or little teddy bears or little leprechauns or–"

"Hush, baby! This is a recon for Johnny. Now, do you have enough or were you planning to buy the entire store?"

She smiled. "We have to buy two years worth, sweetie. Three sizes along. He's growing so fast! But yes, that's all, I think." She glanced at the counter were a pile of clothing and toys and accessories filled it.

"Thank goodness!" he joked. "And the playpen. And the diapers, my God! Seriously, do I need to rent a U-haul?"

"Hilarious, John! Maybe."

He smiled. "All right, then. A quick stop in lingerie and then we can–"

"Whoa there, soldier! This recon is for the baby, remember?"

"Yeah, baby," he smiled, drawing her close to him. "I'm going to get you some very naughty and very skimpy undies and a negligee so slutty I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it."

"John!" she scolded, even blushing at his leer, his avid, sensual interest. "Stop it! Those women will eat you alive, colonel! After all, the professor practically did!" She giggled at the memory. At John who was scowling at her.

"Yeah, that was just hilarious, baby! Damn it. I so owe you a solid spanking for that. But first I will get that pert little ass some deliciously erotic little..." he paused as she frowned at him. He pouted. "Fine, no naughty undies at the moment. Let's go, sweetheart. You need to rest. So does the captain."

Moira eased herself onto the bed, reclining on her uninjured side. She moaned as pain ebbed. A dull but persistent ache in her side. She cuddled the baby to her. The infant cooed, clasped. Snuggling against his mother. She kissed his rosy cheek. Ran her fingers through his silky, dark hair. Trying to smooth down the wild cowlicks but it was as messy as John's. "There, darling. Ssh now...mommy's tired."

"Mama," the baby cooed. A little yawn opening his mouth. He cuddled. Content.

John entered the room, stared. Moira had kicked off her shoes, had removed her pantyhose. The dress had ridden up to her thighs. He smiled at the sight of mother and child. His wife. His son. His precious little family safe. Secure. His.

Moira opened her eyes to see John moving carefully upon the bed. To lay close to her, the baby between them. "John?"

"Ssh. Go to sleep, Moira." He kissed her. Kissed the baby. "I know you are pushing yourself. Take it easy, sweetheart. You need to rest."

"As ordered, colonel. You–"

He kissed her. "Ssh. Let him stay with you awhile."

"He...he's been through a lot." She felt tears.

"We all have, honey." John kissed her again. "But we're still here, Moira. You. Me. Johnny. We are still together. Always." John waited until she had fallen asleep. As had the baby. He sat, watching over them. Feeling a fierce protectiveness. A fierce love for both of them. He finally stood and moved into the other room to make some phone calls. To check in with Daniel, and the professor. To check in with the SGC and Caldwell.

He frowned. Knowing that his superiors would be breathing down his neck to complete the mission, to get things done. Would be outraged at how much Moira had revealed. But he would protect her, take the flak himself if need be. He would make sure that nothing would touch her. He looked round the hotel room. Wanting to take advantage of this time together, away from Atlantis, away from everyone. Had to factor in her injury now but he was still determined to do something special before they returned to Atlantis.

Moira stirred. Felt the absence of the baby in her arms. She opened her eyes. "Johnny?"

"Here, Moy. He's sound asleep." John was setting the baby into the cradle. "There, captain. Take five. My turn."

"John? You...oh." She felt a wave of tears. Touched her side as it ached. "John..."

"Ssh, sweetheart. I'm here." He moved to her. Laid with her on the bed, holding her close. He kissed her brow. "My Moira."

She clung, softly sobbing. Hid her face against his chest. Fingers clasping his shirt. "John, oh John..."

"Ssh, sweetheart," he repeated. Kissing her brow. Stroking her hair. "My Moira. We're fine. We're both here and Johnny's here. It's all right now, I promise you. I love you, Moy."

She calmed. "John...oh John, I love you. I love you...I..." She felt silent, relaxing in his arms. In his love. His warmth.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. ASAP we'll have sex. I promise."

She smiled. "Okay, John."

"Okay, Moira. Lots. Then we'll be whole again, you'll see. Promise. Lots." He kissed her cheek.

"Okay, John."

"Okay, Moira." He closed his eyes, relaxing as she did. As her hold gentled on him. As she fell asleep, secure. He dozed, content with her in his arms. Lulled by the quiet, the muffled city sounds outside the window. The baby's soft sniffling noises.


	11. Chapter 11

Mutagenesis11

John woke to the baby fussing. Sounds of complaint. He sat, kissed Moira as she stirred. "No, I've got him." He got off the bed, moved to the cradle. "What's the problem, captain? Whoa, that's a problem," he noted, as the messy diaper confronted both his eyes and his nose. "Here we go, sport." He lifted the baby, carried him into the bathroom.

Moira stirred, rolled onto her back. Heard voices. John. Johnny. She sat, yawned. Rubbed her eyes. Got up and entered the bathroom. Finished she headed for the other room. Stopped.

John was bouncing the baby on his knees, sitting on the edge of a chair. The baby was prattling, smiling. Grinning. "Here we go, Johnny! There's a good boy! You need to improve your flying skills now and whoops!" he exclaimed, opening his legs. Pretending to drop the baby to the floor, but catching him before his little feet touched the floor. The baby exclaimed in delight, laughing. John smiled. Lifted him back up, bouncing him once more. "Sorry, Johnny! That was careless of me! Dropping the baby like that, huh? Mommy would not be pleased. Not at all. You need to be more careful and whoops!" The baby giggled, exclaiming happily as he slid through his father's legs. Was pulled up and bounced once more.

"Wow, you are careless, buddy! Now captain, there's no need to eject from your craft just yet, is there? You need to whoops!" The baby giggled, but paused as he was still on his father's legs. Still being gently bounced. John smiled at the infant's quizzical expression. "What? Did I forget something? Did I whoops!" The baby exploded into laughter as he slid abruptly, almost hitting the floor but John deftly kept hold of the infant, pulled him up and held him high. John laughed. "Got you, captain! Ah ha! Here we go, captain! Zoom, zoom!" John stood, held the baby above his head and gently moved him through the air, walking round.

"Za, za, za!" the baby exclaimed.

"Za za!" John echoed. He made plane noises. The baby tried to imitate him.

John paused, seeing Moira. He lowered the baby to his arms who also fell silent. Drooling. Grinning with delight. "Hey Moy."

"Mama!"

She smiled. Captivated, overcome by love. She moved to them. "Such messy, messy boys!" She kissed John. Kissed the baby's cheek, wiped his mouth and chin with a burp cloth. Both smiled.

"Did we wake you, sweetheart? How do you feel?" John asked.

"Mama goo!"

"Yes, darling. I'm fine. Actually I was going to take a few pills."

"Oh. Okay. Go lay down, Moira. We're fine. Aren't we, captain?"

"Gaga goo! Za za!"

"Zoom, zoom, yeah. Moy?"

She smiled. Kissed her husband. "Zoom, zoom, colonel," she said softly. Another meaning obvious in her eyes.

He raised his brows, grinned. "ASAP, baby, I promise. Right?"

"Yes, sweetie." She eyed the smiling baby. "Now play nice with daddy."

"Mama goo!"

"Yes." She kissed the baby. Moved to grab the bottle of pills on the table. Returned to the bedroom.

"Gaga!"

"Hush, son. We need a quieter game so mommy can rest."

"John? When are Daniel and the professor–" Moira called from the bedroom.

"Later, Moy. Rest. That's a direct order."

"Yes, sir. Resting, sir."

"That's more like it," he teased. Carried the baby to the table. "Now, junior, let's find a quieter game, okay?"

"Gaga za," the baby stated, as if agreeing.

John peered into the bedroom. Moira was asleep, curled on her side. Holding onto one of John's t-shirts. He smiled, stepped back and carried his son to the door as a knock sounded. He opened it. "Professor."

Jared nodded, smiled at the baby. "Colonel, I–"

"Keep your voice down, please. Moira's resting."

"Oh! Sorry. Hey little guy." The baby prattled.

"That goes for you too, junior," John noted. Led the other man to the table where he sat, laptop in hand. Another knock. John moved to the door. Opened it. "Daniel."

"John. I did find a–" Daniel began.

"Quieter. Moira's resting."

"Oh, sorry! Hey kiddo."

The baby grew quieter, clutching his father's shirt. John noted the change, realized the professor did in fact have the gene. John closed the door, led the other man to the table. They sat. "All right. Conclusions?" he asked, gently holding the baby on his lap.

"Shouldn't we wait for Moira?" Jared asked.

"Yes, she'll be quite interested in this," Daniel agreed.

"I don't want her disturbed. Let's give her...ten," John decided.

Moira stirred, hearing low voices. She woke. Winced and sat. Listened. Heard Johnny's quieter tones. She got off the bed, smiled. "Jo-hn,"she called in a sing-song voice, intonations of teasing flirtation that he would instantly recognize. She moved to the doorway. "I'm in the mood for Sheppard's delight if you can get it up and running after that oh." She stared. All of the men turned to stare at her. The baby grinned. John smirked.

"Believe me, Moira I can get it up...and running...zoom, zoom."

"I...I thought it was the television, the...oh shit! Shit! Sorry!" She darted back into the bedroom, appalled. The men laughed. The baby giggled. Moira swore to herself, at her messy appearance. Hair wild, falling all around her. Her dress wrinkled. Legs and feet bare. She gathered her hair into a ponytail. Pulled socks onto her feet. Smoothed down her wayward dress. She returned. John's gaze was warm. His fond smile making her relax. "Sorry!" she repeated. Sat in the chair John pulled next to his.

"Mama! Mama goo!"

"Yes, darling." She took him as John eased the baby into her lap.

"Thank goodness, Moira! These two were talking football and stats and I nearly fell asleep!" the professor complained, eliciting a smile. "Apparently the colonel is way behind on the games."

"Where we live we get lousy reception," John quipped.

"How are you feeling, Moira?" Daniel asked. "I still can't believe someone stabbed you!"

"I'm fine." She eyed her son as he snuggled, prattling softly. Little hands on hers.

"So I'll ask again," John said, briefly touching his wife's arm. "Conclusions?"

"Oh no! I haven't collated the–" Moira realized.

"You'll have plenty of time later," John assured. "It's a long trip back, remember?"

"Oh. Right." She met his gaze. Eyed the men. Eyed her son as he was grabbing his foot, as if fascinated by the shoe on it. She stroked his back, his hair. "So? Conclusions?" she echoed, causing John to smile.

"Answer Mrs. Colonel," he teased, gently squeezing her knee. Caressing.

The professor gave her the laptop. "I've confirmed my initial findings. The gene sequences...from what you've told me and already done. These creatures are not Wraith. But they are."

John sighed. "Oh, well, that clears everything up, thanks."

"John!" she scolded. "You mean a more primitive form?"

"No. Initially yes, but further analysis of the data has proven otherwise. As you tested in the lab when you remove the bug DNA it results in the subject reverting to being human, but only as long as the serum is injected. It's a false cure. When you remove the human DNA the cells die quite rapidly, cannot even exist independently."

"Christ, Moira, how much did you tell him?" John asked, startled by the professor's extent of knowledge.

Moira ignored him. "That puzzled us too...I mean I knew the cure wouldn't work. The two strands of DNA are so closely interwoven now that you can't separate them for long without any conclusive results. They are an entirely new species and have evolved."

"True...they have evolved. But from what? The first ones were created, is that not your hypothesis?"

"You think the Ancients created the Wraith?" Daniel asked.

"By accident or design, yes," Moira said, ignoring John's glower as did Daniel. At more information being revealed. "But we're missing something. Something important. Something that happened in their past. John brought up several valid points about that."

"I did?" John asked.

"He did?" Daniel and Jared said at the same time. Exchanged a glance. Looked at John who was shaking his head.

Moira smiled, touched her husband's arm. "Yes, he did. But I can't go into that right now. But I believe this will get us much closer." She eyed the laptop. "Daniel?"

"I didn't find much more, I'm afraid." He handed her a note pad. "A few scattered references that didn't make much sense to me but might to you. References to some kind of experimentation. Molecules and such."

Moira took the pad. Perused it. Set it down and eyed her son. He was trying to pull of his shoe. Little face all concentration. Lower lip sticking out. He looked up at her. Grinned. She smiled. Kissed him. "Thank you, Daniel."

"Moira?" John glanced at the pad, at his son. Suspicious. He stood. "That's it, then. Thank you for your help. We'll take this intel back with us and see if what our scientists can make of it."

The men stood, hearing their dismissal. Moira stood, baby in her arms. She moved to the professor, touched his arm. "It was so good to see you, professor! I wish, I wish I had more time. I wish I could tell you more!" she enthused, walking with him to the door.

"As do I." He kissed her cheek. "Moira, I am so happy for you. For what you finally have. A man that clearly loves you. And a child. I'm so glad."

She felt tears. "Thank you."

"But you must tell me, are all of the men you work with as gorgeous as those two?" He glanced past her where John and Daniel were quietly talking.

She smiled. "Yes, actually."

"Damn. I must find a way to visit you, dear." They laughed.

John walked over to them. Shook the professor's hand. "Thank you, professor. Daniel will deliver the papers you need to sign. Obviously you can't tell anyone about any of this."

"Who would believe me, colonel? You take care of Moira and your son."

"I will. Don't worry."

Moira watched him go, turned as Daniel approached. "Daniel."

"Always good to see you, Moira. And your new addition. Take care."

"You too."

John closed the door, met her gaze. "How do you feel, Moira? Still in the mood for Sheppard's delight?"

She frowned. "You should have warned me!"

He smiled. Took the baby from her. "Where's the fun in that? Go rest. Johnny and I are going to grab some lunch. You want anything?"

"No, not now. I can collate the–"

"No. You rest. That's an order, baby. I'll bring you back a sandwich."

"John, I'm not ill! Just–"

"Injured, yes. I want you to recover. Quickly." His gaze roved over her body. He kissed her. "Go! To bed. If I find that pert little ass in a chair I will spank it blue!"

She smiled. "Promises, promises, sweetie. Fine. I could use a quick nap. Still sore." She touched her side. "And those pills make me lightheaded."

"Go!" He kissed her. Moved to put his son in the stroller.

"John...I should–"

"Go, damn it! Do I have to tie you there? Hmm...maybe later."

"Hilarious, John. Fine. When will you–"

"In thirty. I need to call the SGC and see when they want us back. Probably ASAP," he grumbled. Eyed her. Waited. Waited.

"What? Oh, fine!" She kissed him. Kissed the baby. "You two boys behave yourselves."

"Ga! Gaga goo za za!"

"Zoom, zoom. Later, captain. That goes for you too, baby," John added, making her smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Mutagenesis12

John wheeled his son to the hotel room. He opened the door. Entered. Frowned. Moira was sitting at the table, working. She had changed into a brown t-shirt, jeans. She looked over, smiled at the pair. The baby was asleep in the stroller. "Hey, John, I was–"

"Don't you hey John me, baby. I see a spanking is in order." But he smiled. "Stay there." He dropped off a sandwich, wheeled the baby to the bedroom.

Moira smiled. "Thank you! John, what did the SGC say? John?" She began to eat.

"Little busy with our son, Moy! Hang on," he called. He settled the baby into his cradle. Stashed the things he had bought. Returned to sit next to his wife. Closed the lap top she was using. "Tomorrow. ASAP. Back to the SGC. The Daedalus. Then eighteen days to Atlantis."

"Oh." She drank the pop he had provided. "So we have tonight and then back to work."

"Yeah, afraid so, Moira. Although maybe it's better this way. To get you safely off Earth."

"I'm safe now." She eyed her hands. "The threat has been eliminated."

"Yes." He touched her arm, drawing her gaze to him. "Don't you worry, Moy. There's no red tape. The SGC took care of that. The shooting, I mean. Clear-cut self defense."

"Oh. Good. I, I wondered..."

"That's why we were gone so long...tying up any loose ends." He neglected to mention the shopping trip. "Friends in high places. Well, superior officers, I guess." He smiled, kissed her. "Relax, sweetheart. Now it's just us. You can collate all of this on the Daedalus, right? This is our time." He raised a brow. "Were you serious about Sheppard's delight?"

She smiled. "Maybe, sweetie. Tonight. I would hate to waste an opportunity."

"Me too. So we're going out."

"We're what? Like on a...a date?" she asked, startled.

"Yeah. Surprise. Colonel Romance is back, however briefly. Of course, junior will be the third wheel but we'll manage."

"A date?" she asked, staring at him. "That dress is all but unwearable now, and I–"

"Don't you worry. Go."

"Oh no! John, what did you do?" she asked, curious and despairing.

He smiled. "You'll see. Relax, Moy. No more work." He stood, took her hand. Drew her into the bedroom. "Rest."

"I'm tired of resting, John! I'm fine! I need to go over the data and collate all the..." she paused, as he stood immobile. Blocking her from leaving the room. "Oh fine!" She smiled, kissed him. "Will you rest with me, sweetie? I love the feel of that long, lean, strong body next to mine."

"Tempting, but no. Rest, not sex. At least not yet, baby." He kissed her. Glanced at the cradle. The baby was softly snoring. "Wow...he only had a few beers."

She laughed. "Hilarous, John! Did you set up a date for him as well?"

"No. Junior can set up his own dates. Bed."

"What? Oh." She sat on the bed. Reclined carefully. "You could rest with me, John. We don't have to have sex, you know."

"No, we have to have sex, Moira, just not now. I'll be in the other room trying to decipher all that science crap."

"Good luck, sweetie."

"Hilarious, Moira."

She waited, smirking. Waited. "John," she called, "do you need a dictionary?"

"Hilarious, Moira! Rest!" he called back, smiling at her teasing.

"John? If the words are too big for you, sweetie, just sound them out. John? I knew I should have picked up that book. You know the one...the Idiot's Guide to Genetics. Not that you're an idiot, of course, but it simplifies the scientific terminology to layman's turns. Not that you're a layman either...although you are quite a good lay, actually, colonel. John? I think I have a children's book that explains the DNA and RNA stuff I got for Johnny when he's older. It might help you now if you oh oh." She smirked, trying not to laugh.

John was standing in the doorway, glowering at her. Looking sexy and dangerous. But amusement sparkled in his brilliant green eyes. "Have you finished, baby? At this rate I am going to need an hour for all the spankings I will inflict on that pert little ass."

She sat. Wincing but replied, "really, colonel? Are you man enough to inflict all of those spankings for that length of time?"

"Don't tempt me, Moira. I have to wait until you are completely healed. Now be quiet and rest, would you?"

"I'd rather tease you, sweetie. Unless you want to play." She licked her lips. Ran a hand along her thigh. She laughed at his expression. Watched him saunter towards the bed. Eying her. She laughed again, wondering what he was going to do. "John?"

"Moira." He sat close. Kissed her. A long, passionate kiss that took her breath away. But dissolved into laughter as he pushed her onto her back and held her wrists up above her head. "Now go to sleep, damn it! I will tie you to this bed, baby, and I will gag that mouth of yours if you do not behave! Come to think of it I might do all of that later tonight."

"Hmm...colonel...what else will you do to me?" she teased hotly, moving her body into his. But she winced, moaned softly.

John frowned. Freed her wrists and kissed her gently, touching her side. "Nothing until you are better. Now rest, Moira. Rest until we go on our date, all right?"

"All right, John," she conceded with a sigh. Pouted. "But I still want my spanking."

John smiled. "Don't you worry, baby. You will be thoroughly spanked...once you are able to take it. Now rest." He kissed her again, stood. Eyed her as she closed her eyes, then returned to the other room.

Moira stirred, woke from her dozing. She sat. Touched her side. A dull ache echoed. She saw the baby was gone from his cradle. "John?"

"Awake at last, Moy?" he called from the other room.

She yawned. Frowned, seeing the darkness outside. "Shit! What time is it? John?"

"Time for our date, sweetheart."

Moira stared, open-mouthed as he entered the room. He was clad in a black suit. With a rich blue shirt. A black tie. He was holding the baby who had on a similar outfit. The infant was tugging at the tie he wore, clearly not liking it.

John smirked at her expression. Her messy appearance. Rumpled clothes. "I know," he sighed, "we are just too gorgeous for words, aren't we? My son and I. You better get a move on, baby, or we'll find some other woman to wine and dine."

"You...you...where...where...when..." she stammered.

He smiled. The baby grinned. "Let's just say we did more at lunch than just lunch. So?"

"I...you..." She moved to her feet. "I don't have anything to wear. I can't go out like this! Not with you two like that!"

John pointed. "Chair."

She looked. Stared. "John? What have you done?"

"You know, Moy, we need to get going on our date. So move that pert little ass, would you?"

She moved to the chair. Lifted the slinky black dress. "You...John! You have to stop this! I mean oh no!" She snatched the underwear. A half-cup, lacy push-up bra in black. A matching lacy thong. She scowled, turned to see his smile. "What the hell is this? I have socks that have more material!"

"That...that is a very special trophy, baby. For me. It covers what it needs to cover...just. But leaves your pert little ass all bare. I can't wait, Moy. So get dressed."

"In this? I may as well go commando!" she fumed.

He laughed. "Fine by me, baby. We'll be waiting." He carried the baby into the other room.

Moira sighed. Smiled. Moved to the bathroom to clean up, wash her face, her hands. To comb her hair. She returned to the bedroom to undress. "John," she called, "you have to stop buying me these things. These dresses and this so-called underwear." He laughed in response. "John! I'm serious!"

"Okay, Moy. For now."

"Forever, damn it! I mean it! We have to be more practical. We have a baby now."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Hilarious, John! Ouch!"

"Do you need help, baby?"

"Shut up, sweetie!"

John laughed again. "Here you go, junior." He set the baby into his stroller. "No, don't eat your tie!" he admonished, tugging it out of the baby's mouth. "Yeah, I hate them too. Here." He handed the baby his toy plane. Checked his watch. "Tonight, Moy!"

"Shut up, John!"

He ruffled the baby's hair, causing the infant to frown at him. John smirked. "Sorry, junior." He turned, hearing her muttering to herself. "Problem? Oh...wow. Fuck, er fudge, Moira."

Moira glared at him. Hair cascading around her bare shoulders and arms. Along her bare back. "I can't wear this, John! Would you look at this thing?"

"I am," he enthused, gaze following the plunging neckline. The swells of her breasts pushed up by the bra. Her bare back as she turned. Bare all the way down to her rear which was tightly enfolded by the material.

"The neckline is too low! And the back! Geez, John, do you want my ass on display?" she fumed, tugging at the clingy material.

He grinned. "Hell yes...but only for my viewing pleasure. It's fine, Moira. Everything is covered."

"Barely!" She moved to him, clomping awkwardly in her high heels. She hit his arm.

"Ow!" he protested.

"You are not allowed to purchase any more of my clothing or my lingerie! Understood?"

He pouted. "But Moy, I–"

"Don't but Moy me, solider! No!" She glanced past him to the baby who was smiling. "It's not funny, darling. Your father wants me to dress like a slut," she complained.

John laughed. "Not dress like one, baby...undress like one."

"John! You–"

He kissed her, pulling her gently into his arms. "Let's go. We have reservations."

"No." She pulled free. "I'm not going out in this!"

"Fine, sweetheart. Then junior and I will go out carousing. Come on, junior."

"Dada!"

"That's right, buddy! Good for you!" He wheeled the baby to the door. "Oh, Moy...you are wearing the undies, aren't you?"

"Shut up, John!" She followed him, hit his back as he opened the door. "Fucking soldier."

He laughed. "You will be, baby, don't you worry. Let's go. Junior, take point."

"John, where are we going?" she asked.

"A little place down the road. Baby, I cannot wait to see you put Johnny into his car seat."

She hit him again. "No fucking way, sweetie! Not in this thing!"

He sighed. "Crap," he muttered, disappointed.


	13. Chapter 13

Mutagenesis13

Moira sat back, sipping her wine. She gazed upon John as the candlelight flickered over him. Casting him in shadows with his dark suit. His dark hair. The blue of his shirt more vivid. He smiled as he looked at his son in the booster seat next to him.

"Looks like someone is up too late," John commented. The baby was falling asleep. Little mouth open. One little hand clasping his tie. John met his wife's gaze. Drank some wine. "What?"

She smiled. "You." She set down her glass.

"Oh oh. No toasts, Moy. You know I'm not good at those."

"No toasts, sweetie," she agreed. "It's just..." She touched his hand on the table. Felt tears. "Oh John..."

"Oh oh," he repeated. "No. Don't go all girly on me, Moy. It's just a date. Dinner. Two people eating dinner. Well, three, I guess. Okay?"

"John, what you did for me. I...I could never ask you to do that. But you, you did. For me. I just...I know how hard it was for you. Revealing that. It was hard for me to reveal that. Telling you about, about...the expedition..."

"Moy," he warned, uncomfortable.

"I just wanted to tell you I know. I know how much courage that took. How much trust. Because I felt the same way. I feel the same about you." She looked at his hand under hers. Fingered his wedding ring. "John...no one..."

"What?" he asked as her voice fell softly. Was nearly inaudible. He scooted closer to her.

She swallowed. Kept her gaze on their hands on the table. "No one has ever...no one has ever loved me like you do. Like you love me. Even, even knowing what I am, what I did...what you did for me, John. No one has ever loved me like that...and I...I love you the same, John. I love you so much! Even more now if that's possible. I never, I never...I..you, you really love me that, this much?" Her voice fell to a tremulous whisper. Drowned by emotion.

John stared at her. Closed his fingers over hers. "Yes." He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers. "That, this much. And you love me that, this much?"

She looked at him. His voice was low, serious. His gaze warm, although amusement sparkled. "Yes."

He leaned closer. Brushed his lips across hers. Sat back and smiled. "Okay. That wasn't so bad." He looked over at his son. The baby stirred, sleepily prattled. "I think we need to get someone to bed."

"Hmm...I was thinking the same thing, colonel."

He met her loving gaze, quirked a brow. "Really?"

She smiled. "Yes. I still want Sheppard's delight, sweetie."

John smiled. "Check, please!"

John stood, watching as Moira lifted the baby out of the stroller. She carried him to the cradle. Set him down. "There now, Johnny. Let's get you ready for bed. You are so handsome in your suit! Almost as handsome as your father." She kissed him. The baby cooed, smiling. Making little noises as she changed his clothes. Replacing his suit with a soft pale green sleeper. She looked over to see John sitting on the bed, in the act of removing his tie. "No! Wait, sweetie! I want to do that."

He smiled. "Do you now? Hmm." His gaze wandered over her as she leaned over the cradle.. The dress hugged her rear. John smiled, knowing it was bare except for the lacy thong. His fingers itched to touch, to squeeze. The lights from the window hit her bare back as her hair swirled over her shoulders.

"Yes, there you go, darling." She kissed him, stroked his rosy cheek. "Goodnight, Johnny. It was a wonderful date. You are such a gentleman. Unlike your father."

"Hey!" John protested. But smiled, as his thoughts were not gentlemanly at all.

Moira switched on the sound machine. She moved to her husband. Paused to kick off her shoes. "That's better!" She smiled. Suddenly straddled his lap, lifting the dress out of the way. She took hold of his tie. Gently tugged. "Now Colonel Sheppard, let's just see what's under all of this finery, shall we?"

He smiled. Touched her hips as she shifted on him. "Are you sure, Moy? I mean...your injury. I'll be gentle."

"Not too gentle, I hope." She kissed him. Kept kissing him as she undid his tie. Pulled it slowly off him. She sat back as his fingers wandered up her bare back. "Hmm...will I be needing this later, sweetie?"

"Maybe, Moira." He glanced behind him. "Although there's nothing to tie it to."

"Crap," she teased, causing him to smile. To meet her gaze. She ran her hands up his chest. Pushed back the jacket. Began to unbutton the blue shirt.

John kissed her. Slow, savoring motions of his mouth on hers. Fingers sliding up, up to unfasten the dress at her neck. Moira's mouth wandered to circle his ear. To gently bite. He groaned appreciably. She shifted on his lap. He caught her mouth again, tongue gliding as he slid the dress off her shoulders, off her arms.

Moira squirmed, opening his shirt to run her fingers along his chest. To tangle in his chest hair. Her mouth slid down his throat, nibbling. "Oh John..." she whispered hotly.

He moved her arms back to free them from the dress's straps. Eyed the lacy push-up bra. Could see her rosy nipples through the fabric. "So fucking beautiful," he muttered. Kissing her again, drawing her closer now. She pulled the jacket. Obligingly he removed it. Then the shirt. He ran his fingers through her long tresses. Ran his mouth along her throat to her earlobe. Nibbled and gently sucked, licking behind to make her moan, whimper. Squirm deliciously on his lap, on his hardening erection. He ran his mouth down her throat as her fingers ran down his chest, down his waist. She undid his belt. His pants. She scooted back to unzip but John was running kisses along her collarbone to her shoulder. Sliding the bra straps off and down.

Moira gasped, body tightening, flooding. She scrambled off him suddenly. The dress snaked to the floor. John's gaze was riveted on the lacy black thong. The modest triangle of material in the front. But his gaze moved to the bandage on her side. She caught his hands, pulled him to his feet. "Colonel." She pulled down his pants, smirked at the black silk boxers. Moved to her knees to kiss along his waist. Ran her mouth along his erection trapped in the silk.

John groaned. Aroused. Straining. But she stood, pushed him back onto the bed. Straddled his lap again. His hands ran along her thighs to her rear. He gently squeezed the bare cheeks, kissing her passionately. But he pulled back. Fingers moving to her hips. Pausing on the lacy, scanty material. "Moira? Are you sure?" he asked. Voice low, thrumming with need. Hunger.

"Yes, John." She lifted, stood. Tugged at his boxers. Easing them down, off as he moved to aid her.

"Turn," he instructed. Moira did so. John smiled, eying her rear. One thin piece of material was the only thing separating them now. He ran his hand over her rear. Fingered the thong and tugged, tugged. Pulled it down. "Pert little ass. Oh fuck..."

She awkwardly stepped away, stepped out of the thong as it fell to the floor. "You have no idea how uncomfortable that thing was!" she complained, voice breathy. "Rubbing me so raw, so intimately, John."

"I'll kiss it and make it better, baby, I swear," he vowed, gently squeezing. Watched her remove the bra and toss it aside.

"And that bra was uncomfortable too! Damn under wire poking me and shoving the girls like that!" she teased, still not facing him. Feeling his hand on her rear as it squeezed, squeezed. Long, calloused fingers arousing, exciting.

He smiled. "I'll take care of the girls, baby. I'll take care of every fucking inch of you. Turn."

Moira hesitated. Did so. Straddled him as his gaze wandered. She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders. Kissing him. Kissing him deeply, taking his mouth, his tongue as if she would devour both. Sucking and moaning. Lifting now as his hands guided her hips. Taking him into her now with a whimper as he thrust up, up into her.

John groaned guiding her. Up. Down. Up. Down. Excruciating slowness erotic, as the friction built and built. He freed her mouth to lean her back a little, to greedily kiss each breast. To tease each nipple, sucking and nibbling. She moaned, gyrated on him. Arching. Thighs wide as she moved a little faster. "Fuck, oh fuck!" he enthused.

"Oh John! Oh John...harder, harder!" Pleasure was building, building like a wave. Eager. Close. Each motion of his cock bringing her closer, filling her, sliding along every inch of her.

But he kept his movements slow. Kissing her mouth again, guiding, controlling her motions. Up. Down. Up. Down. Thrusting with her in exquisite momentum. Delaying the rush to climax, the run to orgasm. Savoring every feel of her snug heat, her wetness enfolding him, taking him as she began to clench on him. Her hair spilling all around her, down to her breasts. "Fuck! Oh fuck, baby...here we go. Easy now, baby."

"Oh John! John!" she cried, finally able to increase momentum, speed, friction. Riding him eagerly now. Hands clutching his shoulders as he grabbed her rear, steadying her. Faster. Harder. Holding back still, mindful of her injury.

But Moira didn't seem to care. She bounced on him. Faster now, leaning back to arch, to clench hard on him. To take all of him into her. "Oh John! John, please, please...oh John, I need, I need..." she whimpered, so close she felt tears. But again the orgasm hovered out of reach.

He yanked her gently to him to kiss her. Lifted her off him. "Wrap," he nearly growled. Frustrated, hungry for her. So close to release his body ached with the need for it. She did so, holding onto him. He lifted her, turned and set her onto the bed. Moved over her, shifting his weight off her injured side. Kissed her. Moira pulled him closer, ran her mouth along his jaw but he slid down her body. Nibbling each breast. Sucking hard now to make her squirm, clasp, claw at him. Moan as her legs opened wide for him. His fingers slid down to stroke the wetness, the heat beckoning him.

"Oh John! John, please! John!" she cried.

"Moira," he groaned, lifted and thrust into her. Hard. She cried out, arching, tensing. He paused, breath ragged. "Moy?"

"Good groan, not bad. John, John, just fuck me!" she ordered. Pulling at him.

He kissed her. Thrust hard, harder now. Faster as his body screamed for release. His cock a throbbing ache now. He moaned loudly, rocking them. Rocking the bed. Creating a quick rhythm. Straining as he spurted inside her.

Moira cried out, clutching at him as the climax slammed, slammed into her. Waves of pleasure pulsing, erasing the pain in her side as John took her. Took them both. Every inch of him thrusting eagerly now, forgetting restraint. "John! Oh John, John, John!"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he rejoined, coming in a shudder. He thrust deeply, ejaculating in a rush as she pulsed wildly on him. He slowed, fell upon her but shifted off her injured side. Kissing her now, hands in her hair, at her breasts.

Moira moaned, whimpered, returning his kisses, his caresses. Closing her legs slightly as he pulled out of her. He rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. She glanced at the cradle, saw the baby was fast asleep. Undisturbed. She caught her breath, rolled to nestle on top of him. Kissed him. "Oh John, John..."

"You okay, Moy?"

"Yes! Oh yes, sweetie! My God, John...you...oh John!"

His arm encircled her. He stroked her bare back. "Fuck. Fuck we needed that, baby. It's going to be a long eighteen days."

"I know, sweetie." She kissed him. "Oh John."

He kissed her. "Give me five, no ten. Ten. Is your side sore? Sorry! I'll try to keep my–"

"No. I'm fine." She snuggled on him. Caressing his chest. "Oh John...I do love sex with John Sheppard!"

He smirked. "Good to know, baby." He glanced at the cradle. "Junior didn't budge. But he's used to his parents and their happy sounds."

She laughed. "I guess so. Damn, John."

"Damn, Moira. I do love sex with Moira Sheppard. Hey...you didn't tie me up."

"Shut up." She kissed him. Squirmed on him. "You are so hot in civvy clothes, colonel."

"You're hot out of them, baby." He kissed her. Relaxing. "You know...it's tempting."

"What is?" she asked, blissfully content.

"Tempting to stay."

"To stay?" She raised her head to view his handsome face. Pensive but sated expression. "Stay where? In the hotel?"

He smiled at her. "No, silly. To stay. To stay on Earth."


	14. Chapter 14

Mutagenesis14

Moira stared, expecting a jest, a sarcastic comment, but John was serious. Gravity in his brilliant green eyes. Handsome face drawn in serious lines. She stared, uncomprehending. Body replete and warm from the recent sex. From being entwined with John intimately. She touched his jaw, felt the rougher stubble. "John? Are you serious?"

He touched her face. Ran his fingers over her lips. Across her rosy cheek. "Maybe. Think about it, Moy. You. Me. Junior. Here. Well, not here. But somewhere. Somewhere normal. A house. A bed. A big, big bed."

"Are you serious?" she repeated. "What would we do?"

"The usual. Raise Johnny. Have lots of exuberant, noisy sex. Lots. Have another kid. No interruptions, Moira. No complaints. Only us."

"What would we do?" she repeated.

"I just told you."

"No! I mean...you'd be posted where? Flying some dangerous mission in a black ops?"

"Probably. You'd be safe here with the kids."

"No! Are you serious?" She sat, alarmed. "Let's go to bed." She slipped under the covers.

He sighed. Got in beside her. Switched off the lights. "I'm just saying, Moy. Aren't you tired of it? The Wraith, the ATA gene, the flak? The danger. The shit we endure because we have such wild, wild sex. Repeatedly."

"No. I mean yes, but...seriously, John? You can't. The city needs you. The people need you. To protect them. To protect Atlantis. To–"

"You need me. Johnny needs me. And that's all I care about," he retorted, getting comfortable. He watched her as she sat, eying the cradle. "Come here, sweetheart."

She snuggled against him, careful of her injury. Kissed him as his arm went round her. "That's not true, John. You care about your friends. About the city. About your job."

"True," he conceded, "but they're not my priority. You are. Johnny is. Things, things aren't the same now, Moy. Not now. So I'm just saying, if we stayed here...just think how it would be."

"You'd be bored out of your mind, colonel. Or worse sent to some war zone. And you wouldn't be able to tell me about it."

"I could quit the Air Force," he offered.

"No. It's who you are now, John."

He considered, stroking her back. "And you? You're telling me you wouldn't rather be here, working on some paleontologist dig?"

"No. Considering what the Pegasus galaxy has on offer. Pleistocene Park! Living specimens of prehistoric animals!"

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that. Our special planet."

"Ours?" She kissed him. "Yes." She slipped on top of him, lifted to see his expression. "John, what's brought all of this on? Because of what happened to me?"

"Partly, yes, sweetheart."

"And the other part?"

He was silent. Debating. "The, the research," he quietly admitted.

"What? I don't understand. The–"

"You will, once you see it. Look, let's go to sleep. We can talk about this later."

"What? No, John. John! What about the research? John!"

"Ssh, you'll wake Johnny," he warned. "Forget it."

"No! Forget it? You suddenly want to stay on Earth and abandon everything and you just say forget it? Why? What's in the research? John!"

"Ssh!" He kissed her. "Never mind. Go to sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

She considered. Curious, concerned, but knew she couldn't push him. Not yet, anyway. She shifted on him. Ran soft, teasing kisses up his jaw, up his face to his ear. "Sleep? I thought you wanted more sex, colonel? Didn't you say ten? Or do you need more time to get it up again?" she teased, nibbling his ear. She kissed his lips, savoring his mouth.

He rolled them so she was suddenly under him. He shifted onto her carefully. "I always want sex, Moira. Always. Sex with you."

"Good to know, John. I...oh!" She gasped as he shoved her thighs apart.

"Almost, baby. Just need a taste first." He kissed her. A deep, probing kiss that took her breath away. His tongue twirling along hers. His soft, full lips devouring hers. He slid down, mouth moving to her breasts. Taunting with his tongue, licking roughly at the hard, rosy nipples. His lips skimming along her skin.

Moira sighed, arched. "Oh John! John!" she enthused. Loving this, every second of it. Surrendering happily to the seductions. The exquisite foreplay that John indulged with passionate intensity. Not in a rush. Taking his time to arouse her, to elicit what he needed from her to achieve his own satisfaction. To assuage his own hungers, and hers.

"So fucking sweet." He ran his mouth down her waist, careful of the bandage at her side. "You think I'd want to give up this? Any of this? Risk this?"

"What? John?" She stopped moving but he slid lower, kissing along her hip, her thigh. "John? John?"

He ran his mouth up her pelvic bone, across her mound, savoring the taste, the smell, her soft sounds as she reacted. Moved under him. "You, Moira. So fucking sweet. All mine."

"John? What are you talking about? I don't understand the oh God, oh God!" she muttered, crying out his name as he kissed along her again. Tongue probing, lips nibbling so intimately she writhed and flooded. Lost her breath in a whimper, a whirl of sensual rapture as pleasure throbbed, cascaded. She moaned, fingers clutching at him, clawing. Moving as if trying to escape but he caught her hips, held her in place as he mercilessly probed and sucked. Until she cried out loudly, coming in a burst of orgasm, passion. "John! Oh John, John, John!"

The baby stirred at his mother's stuttering cries. John ignored her, kissing her thigh to wipe his mouth. Slid up and thrust into her, rock hard now. Groaned as he thrust, thrust. Finding her ripe, ready. He moved deeply, nearly lifting her off the bed. He grunted, strained, sloppily sucked on her breasts onto to free them. To move faster, faster, harder. Rocking the bed as spasm after spasm shot pleasure all through him. The release flooding him, freeing him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he growled, falling upon her. Sated. "Fuck! That is so fucking sweet! And mine! Damn it, Moira, it's mine!"

She tried to relax her hold on him, to catch her breath. But he was still in her, moving slowly now. Easing himself along her even as he receded. She murmured at the feel of him. He freed her, scooted to lay next to her. Suddenly rolled onto his back to wipe his brow. "Yes, John...it's yours. Always been yours."

"Not always," he grumbled.

"What?" She rolled onto her side, ignoring the soreness of her injury. "John, are you...are you jealous of my, my few, few men?" she asked, startled.

He licked his lips. Stared at the ceiling. "How many?"

"What?"

He looked at her. "How many? You never told me."

"What does it matter, John? I'm with you."

"I know. I'm just curious. You always, always question my about my lots some women. So?"

She hesitated. Thrown by his gravity again. Especially after the passion. The pleasure. Possession. She chewed on her lower lip a moment, debating. "Two," she finally answered.

John stared at her, disbelieving, but saw she was sincere. "What? Are you fucking kidding me? Two? Two?" He laughed. "That's all? I don't believe you, Moira. I've had you. No man walks away from that. That fucking sweetness."

"John!" She blushed. "It, it wasn't like that, like this with them. John, only you bring me like that, like this. I've told you that."

"Yeah, you have. Two." He smirked. "My poor baby...you were practically a virgin when I took you, huh?"

"Shut up, John!" She rolled onto her other side, away from him. Embarrassed. Upset. Bewildered by his mood.

He smiled. Kissed her bare shoulder. "Aw, baby...no wonder you were so shy about going down, oral sex, kinky sex, even wall sex. Or how I want this perfect pert little ass," he added, squeezing her rear.

"John! Shut up! Go to sleep!" She stared at the cradle. "You'll wake Johnny."

"Baby, if your ecstatic cries didn't wake him my laughing won't. Wow...the things I do with my tongue must have blown your mind, huh? I really rock your world, don't I, baby?" He spooned against her. Arm sliding over her, above the bandage. "Fuck, that explains a lot. Sorry, sweetheart. I just...wow...two? Two! It's like your sweet cherry was never properly taken, huh?"

"Shut up, John!"

He smiled. Kissed her shoulder again. "My Moira. Wow...two...I just can't believe that–"

"Damn it! I'm glad you're so fucking amused and happy about it, colonel! Now get off me and go to sleep!"

He laughed gently. Didn't move. "Sorry, Moy."

"No you're not!" she flared. "I hate when you are like this!"

"Like what? Smug? Arrogant? Over my complete possession of you? Every inch of you? Yeah, I am. Damn right I am."

"Men," she grumbled, closing her eyes.

He chuckled. "Women," he retorted, settling comfortably.

Moira opened her eyes. Stroked his hand, catching it as it wandered up towards her breasts. "John?"

He groaned. "Moy, go to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow."

"I know. I just...John?" She turned to him. Smiled at his annoyed expression, his closed eyes. "John?"

"What?" he snapped.

She kissed him. Caressed his shoulder, his arm. "The research. What did you find? What did you see that made you consider staying here? On Earth. What did you see that made you consider giving up everything?"

"Not giving up you, or Johnny," he muttered.

"No, but everything else. John? Is it...is it bad? I should go look."

She made to leave but he caught her. Pulled her gently back to his arms. "No. I could be wrong. Not sure. Lots, and I do mean lots of science. Too much science. We can talk on the Daedalus, okay, sweetheart, please. Sleep. I like to sleep after sex."

She sighed. Relented. "Okay, John...but no withholding intel, colonel. John?"

"No withholding intel, got it, baby, now hush so I can sleep. I'm tired."

"No wonder, sweetie, after your performance. Oh! Performances."

"Yeah." He laughed. "Two...only two...my God, Moira, I must have rocked your world. Those multiple orgasms must have astounded you! Those–"

"Yes, sweetie, you rock my world, all right? Now shut up and go to sleep!" She frowned at his smile. "John?"

He groaned loudly. "What now?"

"Do I... I mean I don't rock your world, but do I–"

"Yes. You rock my world, baby, every inch of you. Ssh."

"I do? I mean, I do? I mean we–"

"Yes, Moira, you do. You're the only one I want in my bed or on the table or against the wall or wherever, however, whenever, okay? Sleep."

She kissed him. "Hmm...John...the spankings?"

A smile curved his lips. "Yeah. Soon, baby...when you least expect it. Now hush."

"As ordered, colonel." She snuggled against him.


	15. Chapter 15

Mutagenesis15

John woke to his son's giggling. He smiled. Rolled onto his back. Opened his eyes. Sunlight was filling the room. He sat. Heard Moira's soft voice, the baby's giggles. He got out of the bed, pulled on his shorts. Moved to the doorway. Smiled.

Moira was sitting on the floor, damp hair streaming down her back. She was fully clothed in a pale blue t-shirt and jeans. She was playing with the baby. Stacking his oversized blocks one by one. "That's two," she said. "Now don't you do it, Johnny. That's three. That's four. Don't you do it, Johnny,"she warned, voice serious. The baby grinned at her. The infant was clad in one of his new outfits. Yet another sailor suit. He clumsily reached for the blocks. Knocked the tower apart. "Oh no! Johnny!"she softly exclaimed, pretending to scold him. The baby laughed. She laughed. "Silly darling!" She kissed him.

"Mama goo!"

"Yes, darling! Here we go." She began to stack them again. "That's one. That's two. Don't you do it, Johnny. That's three. Three high! Don't you do it, Johnny! That's four. Wow, four! That's five! Don't you do it, Johnny!" The baby lunged, knocking them down. "Oh no! Johnny!" The baby laughed in delight. She laughed, kissed him. Looked over suddenly to see John watching, smile on his handsome face, but a thoughtful look in his brilliant green eyes. "John? What is it?"

"Dada! Dada goo!"

"Exactly, Johnny. Colonel, get that fine, fine ass in gear, would you? But don't worry about the clothes," she teased, gaze raking over his long, lean form. Muscled.

"Cute. Why don't you come back to bed, baby?"

"Don't we leave in thirty, sweetie? That's what you said."

"Did I? Oh yeah. But we need to make a stop first."

"A stop? Where? John?" she wondered, seeing his sudden solemnity.

"Johnny, keep an eye on your mother." He retreated to the bathroom, mulling his decision. It had just hit him as he had watched Moira playing with the baby. Mother and child united in play, in love. Secure. Safe. Both still his after everything. The attack, the confessions, the trust. He showered, shaved. Feeling anxiety despite his decision. Trusting in Moira's love, her understanding. Her sympathy.

A soft breeze was blowing. It swirled Moira's loose hair. Ruffled the baby's as he caught hold of her shirt, staring round with wide blue eyes. Moira held him, gently bouncing. Kissed his rosy cheek, his brow. She stared round as well. It was a lovely morning. The last kiss of summer in the warm wind. The blue sky. The birds singing in the tall trees all around them. The green grass. Squirrels chittering to each other.

The cemetery was peaceful. Deserted at his early hour. Calm. Acres of grass and plots. Moira stood at the edge of the grass, cuddling the baby. Looking at the mausoleums lining the grass. Big stone structures, carved with pillars and angels. She eyed the space in between. A simple structure. A stone edifice with steps. A plain but powerful carving of a weeping angel. Tombstones in a row in front of the sculpture.

John stood in front of one of them. Head bowed. Silent. Still. But Moira could see the tension in every line of his body. In the closed fist as his side. He was staring at the one tombstone. The grave where his mother was buried. He wasn't praying. He wasn't even thinking. Just staring. Memories playing in his mind, good and bad. Emotions choking, then receding.

Moira waited. Knew he needed to be alone. He had hardly spoken on the way to this place. Had closed in on himself, flying the helicopter effortlessly. Had only smiled as the baby had exclaimed in wonder and delight at the trip. Little hands eager to grasp the controls, the headsets, the dials, everything.

"Dada goo!"

"Ssh, darling, not yet," Moira whispered into his silky hair. Kissed him.

John heard his son, his wife. Pursing his lips together as he eyed the tombstone. The name. The dates. That one day. That one horrible day etched forever in his mind. Every second. Every moment indelible. The day that had changed his life. Had changed everything for him. He felt unshed tears, blinked them away. Knew he would never be done with mourning, done with the guilt, the terrible guilt. But felt the darkness easing. Moira's love and sympathy bringing the darkness into the light. Absolving him since he couldn't absolve himself.

Moira walked, pacing a little as the baby softly prattled. Squirming slightly, eager to explore. "Not yet, darling, ssh." She paused. Could tell that John's tension was easing. That whatever inner demons he still held had been quieted. His hand at his side relaxing, opening. She walked over to him. The soft grass silencing her footsteps. She touched his arm gently. "John."

"Dada goo?" the baby asked, touching his father's shoulder.

John looked at the baby. Looked at Moira. He nodded. "I...I haven't been here since...since the funeral. Not once. Not even once. I just couldn't, you know. After..."

She stepped closer. Gently kissed him. "It's all right, John."

"Dada goo," the baby prattled, seeming to agree.

John slid his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him. The baby caught hold of his father's white shirt. "After all the...I just felt I had to do this. Before we returned to Atlantis."

"Okay, John. I understand."

"I knew you would, Moira. And you would give me the time I need. And not have to talk about it." He turned them. "Let's go, Moira. I'm done here." He led her towards the road. Towards the waiting car.

"John, is there anywhere else you'd like to go? Anyone else you need to see? Your father or your brother or–"

"No." One word. Curt.

"Okay. Easy, Johnny," she soothed as the baby fussed, losing hold of his father's shirt as John freed her. Took a few steps away and slid on a pair of sunglasses. Hiding his emotions, his thoughts. He stood at the car. Fingers shoved into his jeans, into the pocket to procure the keys.

Moira kissed the baby. Waited.

"Moy?" He turned to her suddenly. "Do you, um, do you need to do this? Visit the grave, I mean? His grave?"

The question startled her. "No."

"Are you sure? I mean I can fly us there, wherever it is. I can–"

"No, John." She kissed the baby again, if only to hide the sudden surge of tears threatening.

"Okay, Moy. I just...um..." John floundered, uncertain. He pulled out the keys, hit the button.

Wordlessly she stepped round, opened the door. Settled the baby into his car seat. Strapped him securely, gave him a toy. Fussing over him as John was still standing outside the car. Watching her until he turned back to the grave site again.

Moira closed the door. Walked round the car to her husband. Touched his arm, drawing him back to her. "John? Do you need a few more minutes? We can wait here for you." Her voice was soft, gentle. Concern in her brown eyes. Love. She could see her reflection in his sunglasses. Wondered what his eyes would have revealed if not hidden behind the lenses.

"No."

"Okay." She moved away but he caught her arm suddenly, pulling her back to him.

"Moira, I..." He sighed. Removed his glasses to gaze into her eyes. Moira stared at the mix of emotions on his face, in his brilliant green eyes.

She hugged him. Pressing her body to his, her arms encircling his waist. "John," she said softly. "My John."

His arms went around her. He hid his face in her hair, felt her warmth, her love envelop him. Closed his eyes a moment. Drinking in the feel of her body, the scent of her hair. "She...she would have liked you, Moy. And loved, loved Johnny. Would have spoiled him rotten."

She smiled. "I'm sure she would have spoiled him, John. And he would have loved every minute of it."

"Hey..." He drew back to see her face. "What about your uncle? Uncle Shamus? He would love to see Johnny, wouldn't he?"

"To be sure he would," she said in an Irish brogue, bringing a smile to his face. "But we can hardly go traipsing to Ireland, now can we, colonel? No. I'll send him some pictures. That'll do for now."

"Oh. Okay, Moy. Maybe next time we can traipse to Ireland. The three of us."

"Sounds like a plan, colonel." She kissed him. Ran her fingers up and down his back. "Are you all right, John?"

"Yeah. Now. Thanks, Moy. I don't think I could have done this without you. I never would have done this if we hadn't shared our...stuff. You...you know all of that...right?"

"Yes, of course."

"I don't want to talk about any of this again, okay? Unless you need to. But for me...it's done. I mean it's still there, will always be there, but it's done. Better now. Because of you. Is it like that for you too?"

"Yes, John. We don't need to go over it again. We both know now. And we're still here. That's all that matters." She glanced at the car. The baby was watching them, sucking on a toy.

"Yeah. All that matters. You. Me. Johnny." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. Kissed her lips tenderly. "My Moira." He stroked her cheek, her throat. "I won't let anything happen to you, Moira. I won't let anything happen to him. I swear."

"I know, John. And don't let anything happen to you." She eyed him as he freed her. Slid the sunglasses back onto his face. "Where to, now, colonel? Oh, you still need to pick out some sexy, cute boxer shorts, sweetie,"she teased, to lighten the mood, to relax him. "You know, like polka dots or pink ones or a tuxedo one with a bow tie or ow!" she protested as he swatted her rear.

John smiled at her. "Pert little ass. In. Now!" he bellowed.

She laughed, circled round and got into the car. John slid into the driver's seat, started the car. Glanced over his shoulder at his son who was prattling quietly. "Seriously, John, you should get something cute, and tight, so tight, colonel that your ordnance is very clearly outlined and your fine, fine ass is–"

"Once you are better I am going to spank that pert little ass blue! I swear!" he rejoined, driving along the cemetery road. "Enough about my undies, baby! Since you won't let me get you anything. Come to think of it, though, I do prefer you in nothing."

"Hilarious, John." She glanced back at the baby. "We'll be in the helicopter soon, darling."

"Ah chaa! Ah chaa!" the baby agreed.

"Yes, helicopter. He likes flying almost as much as you do, John."

"Yeah," John agreed with a smile. "That's my boy."

Moira stood in the SGC, holding the baby. Diaper bag slung over her shoulder. Looking round impatiently. She smiled as Daniel approached. "It's too bad you can't come with us," she said.

Daniel smiled. "Yes. I've got to get to your neck of the woods one of these days. But Jack won't listen to me. He's–"

"He's what?" Jack O'Neill walked over to them. The baby exclaimed, prattling loudly as the older man smiled. "Handsome? Charming? Debonair?"

"I was going to say stubborn. Opinionated. Finicky. Wow, he really likes you. Of course he doesn't really know you yet," Daniel quipped.

Jack frowned. "Cute. And no, Moira, you can't take Danny with you. He's not a stray." They laughed. Jack smiled, let the baby grab his finger. "So this is the Atlantis baby I keep hearing about. He looks just like John."

"Yes," she agreed, "right down to the stubborn streak." They laughed.

"Where is John anyway?" Daniel asked.

Moira shrugged. "I'm not sure. He was supervising the loading of our stuff. All the stuff we had to buy for Johnny here. But he should be done with that by now. He said to wait for him here."

John stood, arms folded across his chest. Peering past the petite doctor's shoulder to view the computer screen. He frowned at the scrolling data. The double helix of DNA on the screen. Certain chains of proteins highlighted in colors. Other genes highlighted. "It's not there?"

"No. I've compared them and you can see for yourself, colonel," Janet Fraiser informed. "Without knowing what these are, apart from being a genome sequencing with dormant or recessive genes being activated here, and here..." She pointed at the screen. "By an unknown agent...what you are looking for again in these?"

"A certain gene. I was told it wasn't there, only in that one," he pointed at the screen. Ran his finger along the monitor over one genetic sequence. Over the code highlighted in red. "And it got me thinking. I wanted a second opinion to be certain. Someone more conversant with humans as opposed to non-humans."

"Oh. You're saying these aren't human? Well, obviously these aren't, but the last two, albeit they are related but you could have fooled me," Janet admitted, frowning.

"Wait...the last two? Are you sure?" John asked.

"Yes. The first is most definitely human, and the second one...is presenting as human, but almost more than human. A slight but telling difference. Here. A dormant gene that isn't expressed, but it expressed in these others, which is curious in itself. Doubly so in the second sample. Especially if you are telling me these are two different species. Is that what you are telling me?"

John was silent. Staring at the two double helixes as they seemed to float on the screen, spiraling in the compute animation. The sequenced codes, the letters making up chains of information. Bars of black and colors that appeared meaningless, random unless you could decipher them. And John could decipher them, knowing full well where the samples originated. Samples of DNA. Samples from a father and a son.

"Colonel? What is this second sample?" Janet asked, curious.

"Classified. Thank you, Doctor Fraiser. That's all I needed to know."

"What? Wait! What is that second sample? Colonel?" Janet asked, but John was already leaving the infirmary, swift stride quickly taking him out of the room. Away from the inquiries.

He saw his wife and son as they were laughing with Jack and Daniel. Heard his son's loud prattling as he was holding onto Jack's finger. He felt an odd jealousy. "Moira," he said, approaching them.

She looked over, smiled. The baby looked over, grinned. "Gaga! Gaga goo!" The men laughed.

John smiled, seeing his son's instant recognition. His wife's love. "Dada. Get it right, son," he gently admonished. "Sir, everything's loaded onto the Daedalus. Daniel."

"Good to hear, John. You be sure to take care of this precious one," Jack advised, freeing his finger.

"I will, sir. Thank you." He looked at Moira. "Time to go."

"Okay. Thank you, Jack. Daniel, take care."

"You too, Moira," Daniel said with a smile.

Moira walked with her husband across the base. "So...what took you so long? I hope you were loading up some popcorn for Rodney."

"Of course. Otherwise he'll whine for a month," John agreed. He considered as they walked to the elevator. Heading for the Daedalus. Heading for home. Atlantis. "Moira, I...I think I know."

"Know? Know what, John?" she asked, as they entered the elevator. The doors closed. John pressed the button. The elevator began to rise. The baby prattled, watching the numbers light up one by one.

"I think I know." He met her gaze. Brow furrowed in uncertainty, in gravity. "I think I know the origin of the Wraith."


End file.
